Operation Overt
by TwilightSparkle3562
Summary: In the Summer of 2006, following the events of "Graduation," Kim and Ron take part in one final mission with Global Justice: to stop a terror cell in London from destroying eighteen airliners over the Atlantic Ocean using Liquid Bombs. Meanwhile, Kim waits to find out if she either gets accepted to Harvard or Brown Universities. *Author's Note: Based on a true story.
1. After Graduation

Disclaimer 1: I do not own "Kim Possible" or its characters. They are property of the Walt Disney Company and its affiliates.

"Operation Overt"

By TwilightSparkle3562

Chapter 1

"After Graduation"

I still couldn't believe that it had happened, that we had graduated from Middleton High School. I wasn't saying that because we finally received our diplomas, I was saying that because we had been involved in our greatest fight to date against the Lowardian forces.

Had it not been for Ron using the Mystical monkey power….well that is another story for another time.

Anyways, graduating from Middleton High meant that the futures of Ron and myself were uncertain. Our lives were going to be much different now than before, with me attending whatever university that would accept me as a student seeking a masters in Global Studies and Ron just being here to support me.

At the same time, however, I was also contemplating on the fact that maybe, perhaps, the time was coming for both of us to think about maybe stepping down from Global Justice. After all, being a crime fighter for a well-known organization like Global Justice took time and effort, something that I would be having less and less of as I started the next phase of my life. But I assured myself that I would take part in one last big mission that would not only end my tenure on a high note, but also save up to 2,000 lives at the same time.

This story began a few days following the graduation ceremony at Middleton High. The Lowardians had been defeated and a diploma was in my hands. Still, the damage was pretty much done to our town. Amazingly, our town had only been severely damaged in several places and even though our house had been destroyed in the invasion, Ron's mystical monkey power had amazingly restored it to the way it was before the invasion began. We knew it had been damaged during the invasion, based on the huge cracks that had appeared in several places, but my parents were already looking into it.

However, there were far more important matters than huge cracks that needed my attention, such as my impending enrollment at an unknown school that would soon accept me.

"Hey there, beautiful," said Ron as he walked into my bedroom on the day of my graduation party. "Ready to celebrate your four years of accomplishments?"

"Well, after everything that has happened," I replied while getting my makeup on. "I could sure use a distraction. Especially since I haven't heard any school willing to accept me as a student."

"They still haven't gotten back to you?" remarked Ron, his voice filled with surprise. "Rufus and I still have to settle our bet on which school you get into. He went for the big guns and chose Harvard while I chose for Brown University."

These two schools in question were my preferred choices. Sure, I had received dozens of schools from all over the world, but it would have been best if I waited until I went after I received my masters and began looking for a school where I would pursue my doctorate.

"Well, they are local schools, Ron," I said as I finished my makeup. "And I don't know why, but maybe it would be nice to get everything done with very little travelling to be done. I mean, we've travelled the world many times saving it from Drakken and all those other guys, but it gets boring after a while."

"In a sense, you just want to settle down," guessed Ron as he turned around while I threw on my sleeveless navy blue dress that I wore on special occasions. "Just focus on the education and less on the world saving. But, don't you think that it is not a good idea, knowing that the world needs to always be saved?"

Ron did bring up a good point about early retirement from Global Justice, but I knew that there was a very good reason for it. But, going after degrees and saving the world was not going to be easy. I needed to focus on one of the two in question and that the college education was much more important.

"Ron, I do have to be honest with you," I explained as I pulled my dress over my head. "Ever since the Lowardian invasion, I've thought about my future and it is becoming more and more dangerous to save the world. I mean, you've seen all the pictures of those crazy people that want our country wiped from existence, don't you?"

"Well, yes," replied Ron as he turned back around to face me. "I mean, battling crazy terrorists is sort of the new normal. But, I thought this would kind of be a fresh new challenge for you?"

"It wouldn't be," I said, putting on my stockings. "These terrorists are nothing like Drakken, Monkey Fist, Duff Killigan and all those other guys. They kill to get what they want and ever since 9/11, I've tried to stay away from them and let our people in the military deal with them. We are both young and deserve to pursue our own goals, Ron."

I could tell that Ron was not going to agree with me, but I wasn't surprised at that. He and I have had our differences and disagreements before like any other couple, still he would eventually come to respect my decision.

"However, it would be nice to at least finish my time with Global Justice on a high note," I sighed as I put on my black dress sandals. "I would like to take part in one final test, a test that would come to define everything that I have done in all the years I have been at Global Justice."

"Who knows when that would be?" remarked Ron, as we made our way downstairs. "Whatever it is, we will do it together as we have always done, my lady."

Ron kissed me on the cheek and then bent his elbow to escort me down the stairs to my waiting family, who were waiting to celebrate my accomplishments with me. Today was indeed a day of celebration, but little did we both know of what was brewing across the Atlantic and in the Middle East that would result in the greatest challenge of my crime fighting career: stopping a terror cell that was planning to carry out an attack that would surpass 9/11 itself…


	2. Graduation Party

Chapter 2

"Graduation Party"

After Ron and I had our conversation, we left with my family and headed to the same location where Ron's cousin was married. Fortunately, Ron didn't turn evil like the last time we were here and there was no sign of his bratty cousin, Sean. Today was about celebration and revelation over all of my accomplishments in four years of High School life, a life that was now all but over. Still, the thoughts of me retiring from Global Justice were circling around and many reporters were gathered at the party where I gave a brief speech about my graduation and most importantly, answered questions about my future as an agent.

"I cannot say at this time whether I would step down from Global Justice," I explained at the party. "As all of you may know, I am still waiting on whether I end up going to either Harvard or Brown Universities. It is most likely that I will focus on my education for the time being, but when I make my decision, I will let you know."

Nevertheless, the reporters were insistent that I give them the truth. In fact, they were hounding me so much at that moment that my dad had to step in and ask them all to leave.

"If you don't mind," he said in an annoyed tone of voice. "We are celebrating my daughter's graduation from High School, so I will ask you at this time to leave or else."

Not wanting to know what "or else" meant, the reporters complied and left the room, leaving us alone to continue the celebration. Ron and I were both very surprised at why the press was making such a big deal out of me possibly leaving Global Justice. Not everyone stays in the same occupation forever, but some people just don't get it.

"Can't these people get off your back?" remarked Ron as we sat down at our assigned table. "I mean, you are celebrating this important milestone in your life and you've got these people to worry about."

"They have every right to be," I said. "I mean, we are the most popular young people in the world's media these days. We did stop an alien invasion, after all and save dozens of lives at the same time."

"Maybe they want you to go out on a high note," suggested Ron. "Just like we were talking about back at your place."

Perhaps Ron was right at the fact that if I did decide to retire from crime fighting, then there would be something to go out on. But, with Drakken reformed and all the other criminals that we have fought in the past either in hiding or have retired from their own careers, then what exactly was just waiting for me over the horizon? No one knew yet, but at some point during the party, I began to notice some people gathered at the bar area with a television playing that showed a picture of a dead man.

"Uh, what is going on here?" I asked as I walked over to my Uncle Slim. "Don't people realize that there are children present here?"

"They got the varmint, Kimmie," replied Uncle Slim, turning around in his barstool. They got that varmint in Iraq, we've been hearing so much about."

"Yeah," remarked another guest. "Got him in his safe house. Our boys blew him to pieces, so he won't be harming anyone anymore."

Rather than staying around to find out what was going on, I decided to leave and return to the table, only to be stopped by several of my family and friends who wanted their pictures with me. Because of this, it took me several minutes to get back to the table, where the main course was about to be served. Still, the pictures of the dead man on the television set did, in fact, send chills up my spine. I was not used to seeing dead people and it showed.

"Hey, KP, you like you've seen a ghost," said Ron, as Rufus popped out of his pocket to rub my hand. "Everything okay?"

"Just saw some strange picture of one of those dead terrorists in Iraq," I replied, shuddering at the thought of what I saw. "They are saying he beheaded some people or such. Makes my skin crawl."

"Try not to think about it, KP," suggested Ron as he dove into the food that we had been served. "This is your big day and you should be happy."

Ron was right, I should be happy over all that was happening around me. But, deep down, I wasn't. So much was happening at once and it showed in my body language. I felt cold, but it wasn't because of the air conditioning in the hall, it was what being shown on television along with the hounding questions about my future as an agent of Global Justice. Nevertheless, I had my rock and security blanket sitting right next to me.

Eventually, we finished the appetizer and soon moved on to the main course. As time went on, the sights of the dead man on television left my mind and the DJ began performing some dance songs to invite people onto the dance floor.

"Got a little something for you, Kimmie," said my mother, as she placed a corsage around my left wrist. "Enjoying the party?"

"Ravenous," I remarked, looking at the corsage. "Everybody seems to be happy that I have graduated."

"We all are, Kimmie cub," replied my mother. "Can you imagine how many people have taken their pictures with you? Quite a few to be exact. Now, if only you would get accepted into a school."

My mom then walked away to chat with other guests as Ron extending his hand out to me.

"May I have this dance, Kimberly Anne?" he asked in a polite voice, flattering me as he always had done.

"You certainly may, Ronald," I replied in an equally polite voice as he walked me out onto the dance floor, while several slow dance songs began to play.

As we danced, I could start to feel fully comfortable for the first time in a long time. I had my family, my friends and Ron all around me. Ron seemed to also feel very comfortable around me as well. In fact, he had that look in his eyes that said to me that I was looking very beautiful to him. Then again, I always was and I had worn this sleeveless navy blue dress on several occasions prior, so a compliment on how I looked would seem very redundant at this point.

After dancing to several songs, both fast and slow, we returned to our table for dessert of chocolate mousse cake and the conversation began to switch to something else.

"You know, Ron," I said as we sat back down. "We haven't really talked much about our upcoming trip to Spain yet. You've been working on your Spanish?"

"Si, senorita Possible," replied Ron. "I've been working on it for some time. Imagine all that we are going to be doing out in Spain, especially the Flamenco dancing."

"Steady there, Ron," I remarked. "Let's just focus on this party first before jumping into the Spanish way of life."

However, as we finished up my celebration, I couldn't help but think of the dead man in Iraq and the potential repercussions that would come as a result. In fact, in a remote village in Pakistan, a group of young men were gathering to put the finishing touches on a major terrorist plot that had been in the making for some time.

A plot that would set the stage for my final mission with Global Justice…


	3. Trip to Spain

Chapter 3

"Trip to Spain"

A month since the graduation party passed and soon, the time had come for Ron and I to begin our journey to Spain as a graduation present to ourselves for our accomplishments in school that led to our graduation. We would fly to Madrid and then take a train to Barcelona before flying home from there. It was a good opportunity for both Ron and I to spend some time together and it wasn't like we never traveled internationally before. We had done many globe-trotting as Global Justice agents and this was nothing like any other.

On the evening of July 10, 2006, Ron and I arrived at Terminal E at Boston Logan International Airport and checked in for British Airways Flight 214 to London/Heathrow departing at 9:35pm connecting to British Airways Flight 460 to Madrid departing at 12:10pm the following afternoon. Little did we know that this would start the chain of events that would lead to foiling the biggest terror plot since 9/11.

"Doesn't look too bad, security wise," I remarked as we walked towards our gate in Terminal E. "Surprising considering that this is the height of the summer travel season."

"Probably all of them are just excited to get going as we are," said Ron. "I've got some Spanish dance moves that I am just itching to share with you."

"Wait until we get to Spain, Ron," I chuckled as we sat down. "Trust me, I don't want any unwanted attention, especially since I don't have a definitive answer on my choice of colleges. You saw what happened at my graduation party, with all those reporters and all."

"They probably have other important things to worry about, KP," advised Ron as Rufus came out of his pocket with his little backpack on his back. "Such as what is going on in Israel."

At the time of our trip to Spain, Israel and Palestine were at it again and since it was a conflict that had been going on for over four decades, it was something that wasn't important to us, considering that Palestine was just too dangerous to send Global Justice agents. Perhaps Ron was right of the fact that the attention in the Middle East would allow us to be free to do what we wanted to do.

"Let's just hope you are right, Ron," I replied, looking over towards him. "We need to have our time together and this trip is something that we both need in our lives."

Soon, we boarded the Boeing 747 and lifted off from Logan Airport shortly after 9:30pm. For the rest of the flight across the Atlantic, everything was perfectly normal as we all settled in for a few hours of sleep. Early the next morning, at about 9:30am, we landed at London's Heathrow Airport and taxied over to Terminal 4, which was British Airways' main terminal at the time. After going through connections and security again, we made it to our assigned gate for our flight to Madrid. Just as we got into the boarding area, the picture of the dead terrorist was again being shown on the television screen.

"Must they continue showing that on television?" I remarked, bitterly. "Seriously, this is already starting to creep me out."

"It's Abu Musab…" Ron started to say, only for me to swiftly interrupt him.

"I know who it is, Ron," I interjected, placing my hand in front of his face. "I don't need to have it spoken to me. I don't care and I don't have any intention of a history lesson. This is our time and our vacation, Ron. We have far more better things to do than to learn about terrorists. Besides, they are not our problem."

I know what I said was true, the man was dead and that was all there was to it. Still, I couldn't deny the truth that there was to be any form of retaliation against the United States for this cowardly act. Nevertheless, we boarded the Airbus A320 and departed Heathrow Airport right on schedule. About 2 hours and 35 minutes later, we landed at Madrid's Barajas Airport and took in the scorching hot Spanish summer weather. After clearing immigration and customs, we got in the taxi that would take us to the first of two hotels on our trip.

"Hey, what is that?" I asked the driver as we drove past the Atocha train station. "It looks familiar."

"That is the Atocha train station, miss," replied the driver in a thick Spanish accent. "143 of our countrymen were murdered here and the memories are still there."

I couldn't help but feel the pain and suffering that those people went through on that March morning two years earlier. The driver was right about one thing: that more than Spaniards were killed here. This was an international incident and made me feel a sense of fear every time that I would board a commuter train in Boston.

"Ron," I whispered. "Remind me to come here at some point, so that I could pay my respects."

"There is a memorial to the victims in the station," said the driver. "You can look at it at any time and pay your respects that way."

As the driver spoke those words, I heard sounds in the back of my head that sounded like screaming and crying. They were sounds that I had tried to block out of my head, given the fact that I had enough on my plate as it was.

" _Help us!" the voices shrieked and screamed. "Please, Kim Possible! Help us! Why aren't you here to save us from the devils?_

I tried to not listen, but I couldn't succeed. These voices were telling me something, something that was far greater than any threat made by any of my enemies before. All the enemies that I have battle against had goals for world domination. These devils that the voices were screaming of were devils that had the same level of those who attacked our country on 9/11.

Little did we know that as our vacation in Spain continued, in the Middle East, a group of young men were in the final stages of a test run, a test run that would involve bringing down a series of airplanes using a form of explosives that rivaled those that brought down Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland the year that both Ron and I were born. On the day before we were to return home to the United States, a young Pakistani man was being dropped off at Jinnah International Airport in Karachi, Pakistan for a journey that was also to the United States.

"You know what to do, brother," said a young man in an Arabic accent. "Go and carry out the test run for our ultimate plan against the Infidel. Soon, they will all pay for the crimes committed against our people."

"Allah be with you, Abdullah," replied the young man. "Allah be with you."

And with that, he walked towards the Emirates Airlines ticket counter and checked in for Emirates Flight 609 to Dubai which was scheduled to depart at 7:55pm and arrive at 8:50pm. From there, he would transfer to British Airways and board Flight 106 to London/Heathrow at 1:35am. After arriving at 5:40am, he would then also transfer to Flight 213 to Boston at 11:20am.

Soon, Ron and I would soon be thrown into the fire with the enemies that the voices were telling me about…


	4. Terror at 30,000 feet

Chapter 4

"Terror at 30,000 Feet"

A week had come and gone and after Ron and I had toured the cities of Madrid and Barcelona, it was time to return to the United States while still waiting for a response from either Harvard or Brown. However, there was something far more important to pay attention and it was happening somewhere over the horizon.

The morning of July 17, 2006 began like any other as the sun rose over Barcelona, Spain. Arriving at the Barcelona International Airport, we checked in for British Airways Flight 477 to London/Heathrow departing at 7:10am on an Airbus A320 before connecting to British Airways Flight 213 to Boston departing at 11:20am on a Boeing 747-400.

Everything seemed uneventful as we flew up to London and landed just after 8:30am. As we waited to board for our flight to Boston, however, we began to notice the suspicious behavior of one passenger.

Little did we know that this guy had deadly intentions.

"Hey Ron," I said as we waited to board. "I can't help but wonder of that guy over there. What do you think he's up to?"

"I think he's probably nervous, KP," replied Ron in a very mellow voice. "Just ignore him and think of all that we had done over the past week."

It was very hard to think of all that we had done in the past week and there was something about this young Arab man that made me think of him as one of those idiotic terrorists with those warped beliefs. Soon, we boarded the 747-400 jet and sat a couple rows behind the man, my eyes still locked on him like a hawk.

"Can't you just ignore him, Kim?" cried Ron as we sat down in our seats. "He looks harmless to me."

"Not to me," I replied, firmly. "There is something about that guy and I can't help but wonder about it. He must be up to no good, Ron and I know it very well. You may not notice it, but I certainly do."

The agent inside of me knew that what Ron was saying was indeed truly false. Ever since 9/11, our mantra has always been to say something if you see something suspicious. But before I could ask a flight attendant, the request came for all passengers to be seated for departure. Shortly after 11:30am, we took off from Heathrow Airport and turned over Ireland before starting our long journey across the Atlantic Ocean.

For the next seven hours, everything seemed to be normal. Our documentation was filled out to reenter the United States and the inflight meal had already been served. Just as we were about 45 minutes away from landing however, was when things began to take a frightening turn.

"Well, guess I'd better hit the john," remarked Ron as he got up from his seat. "Might as well clean myself out before we go through the formalities, wouldn't you say, KP?"

"I'd certainly say," I remarked in a disgusted voice at Ron's toilet humor. "Perhaps maybe you should, given what you had just said."

"Hey, what happens at 30,000 feet stays at 30,000 feet," chuckled Ron as he walked over to the bathroom.

Shortly after going over to the bathroom, the young Arab man got up and I began to notice that he had something in his hands. It was a small bag that had what appeared to be several components inside of it. At the time, it was not an issue. But to me, it was. However, as Ron was waiting, I saw him struggling to open the bathroom door, only for a man to open it with a young girl inside.

"Didn't you see the sign?" he muttered to Ron in an irritated voice as he pulled his daughter out of the bathroom. "Bloody idiot."

"Well sorry," replied Ron as he walked into the bathroom. "I didn't see the sign."

It took several minutes for Ron to do his business in the bathroom and then he came out while the Arab man went in right after him. Perhaps maybe he needed to throw something out that couldn't be waited for collection, but I had my reason.

"That guy was a jerk," said Ron, bitterly as he sat down. "How was I supposed to know that he was occupying the bathroom?"

Suddenly, we heard a loud bang coming from the bathroom and the sight of smoke was coming out of it. The sounds of people screaming were heard next and the doors flung wide open as the man collapsed onto the floor, his body covered with what appeared to be in burns and that his clothes were torn off in several places. I leapt out of my seat to help put out the source of the disturbance and I saw that the bathroom had markings of an explosion on it and a small fire starting to form.

"Get a fire extinguisher!" I shouted to a flight attendant as she sprayed the bathroom through the large hole caused by the bang. The man was still alive, but he was crying out in pain as several passengers carried him to an empty seat that was not his while the flight attendants called up to the cockpit.

"What was that?" asked the captain as he listened into what was being said. "Bloody hell. Tell everyone to be seated and we will ask for an immediate emergency landing at Boston."

Putting the phone down, the pilots contacted the tower at Logan Airport, demanding an emergency landing. Once the word had come out about our situation, airport officials immediately ordered that the fire and rescue teams were to be dispatched at once to meet us.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the captain said over the intercom in a tense, yet calming voice. "We have notified Boston of what happened and they are going to meet us at a random location at the airport. Please stay seated until further instructions upon landing. Thank you."

So, we prepared for an emergency landing and that a pair of handcuffs were placed on the individual in an effort to keep him contained. Still, there was the matter that there was no doubt whatsoever that this was an attempted terrorist attack. After we landed, we were taken to a remote part of Logan Airport where we were met by local Massachusetts state police as well as the local branch of the FBI.

"I guess you were right about one thing," said Ron as we were later bussed to the terminal to clear immigration and customs. "This guy was up to no good."

"I told you so, Ron," I said, my voice filled with determination. "And we are going to get to the bottom of this if it is the last thing we ever do at Global Justice."


	5. My Instincts Were Right

Chapter 5

"My Instincts Were Right"

In the days following our brush with death, there was no doubt in my mind that this was nothing more than a terrorist attempt. With the young idiot still in the hospital under heavy guard, no one could question nor interrogate him on why he did what he did. Nevertheless, Ron and I were summoned back to Global Justice HQ for a meeting with Dr. Director to discuss what had happened. Going into her office, Ron and I were instead met with our boss with her back towards us and her head lowered towards the ground.

"Dr. Director, is everything all right?" I asked and for a few moments, she didn't say anything. Finally, she turned around and look at us and I could tell that she had been suffering from a lack of sleep. What was causing all of this was yet unknown to me, but not for long.

"Look, Dr. Director," suggested Ron, walking up to her. "If you are still worried about us being killed, you don't have to worry about it. We are standing in front of you, after all."

"Ron, can't you see that she looks like hasn't slept in a few days?" I cried, pulling him away from her.

Still, Dr. Director didn't say anything and sat back down in her desk. She was definitely in thought of something and we weren't going to be leaving unless she would snap out of whatever she was in.

"It's all right, Agent Possible," she sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her face. "I just couldn't believe that these people are at it again. The President had said to never let another 9/11 happen again and we failed him."

"Well, ma'am," I said. "I just wanted to say that I did have a feeling that something like this would happen, but I didn't know when."

"That's understandable, Agent Possible," replied Dr. Director as we sat down in front of her while she cut straight to the chase. "Knowing these people who want to target airplanes, it was only a matter of time. For the past few months, we had been working with our friends in the United Kingdom on spying on a group of Arab men who are planning what we call a second 9/11."

"You mean flying into buildings and such?" guessed Ron.

"Not quite, Agent Stoppable," said Dr. Director. "I'm talking about the terrorists' second favorite tactic next to hijacking airliners. I am of course talking about smuggling bombs onto airplanes."

This was not a surprise to me, for that was exactly what happened on British Airways Flight 213. The question now was how someone could get a bomb through security without any detection or suspicion whatsoever. There had to be a reason and Dr. Director was going to give us the truth.

"It's been a practice for many years," explained Dr. Director, showing us a pair of pictures of two major airliner bombings. "Terrorists want nothing more than to disrupt our daily lives and make us take fear of something that we normally take for granted."

Dr. Director then made us look at the picture on the far left, which had the nose of a Boeing 747 down in the ground after it was bombed out of the sky.

"Do you know why I want you to take a look at this particular picture?" she asked, explaining the picture in question. "Because this was what we all fear would happen if we don't do something. This picture was taken right after Pan Am Flight 103 was bombed over Lockerbie, Scotland in 1988, killing 259 on board and 11 more on the ground."

"What has that got to do with what happened to us?" asked Ron.

"Because the terrorists we had been tracking are planning a series of Pan Am 103's," replied Dr. Director. "The man who had attempted to bring down Flight 213 is a member of a terror cell that has a center of operations in several towns and cities throughout southern England. What needs to be done is to disrupt the terrorists before their plan could be carried out. There is no better place to start than to question the man responsible for Flight 213's near destruction."

"If he is willing to talk," remarked Ron. "We saw him after the bombing, KP, there is no way that he is willing to talk to us."

Ron was making it sound like that the man being in the hospital was an excuse to not get him to say anything. However, there were ways to get him to talk and these ways were the only ways.

"Well, that is no excuse," remarked Dr. Director. "What needs to be done is to get him to open up. He is in the custody of the FBI at Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital. As soon as he is awake, I want you both to go there and question him. If he refuses to talk, don't give in to it. Force him to talk and do not stop until he reveals everything."

The sounds of Dr. Director's voice gave me an indication that she was desperate to get to the truth. However, just as I was about to ask her why she was acting like this, the door opened and another agent walked into the office.

"I apologize for interfering, ma'am," said the agent, handing her a sheet of paper. "We received word that the suspect has come out of surgery. Shall we begin talking to him?"

Dr. Director took this matter into consideration and after a few moments, she looked back up at us and took her glasses off, showing the exhaustion that was on her face.

"Agents Possible and Stoppable," she said. "Leave at once and begin questioning the suspect at his bedside. I don't care if he is out of surgery, we want him to open and by God we will get him to open up if it is the last thing we do."

After the meeting was over, Ron and I left Dr. Director's office and prepared to head to Beth Israel Hospital to question the man who tried to bomb us out of the sky. Still, Dr. Director's behavior did raise several red flags in my mind about the severity of this plot.

"She is probably being erratic from a lack of sleep, KP," suggested Ron. "We all can be like that sometimes."

"Well, it isn't a normal erraticness," I remarked. "Something must have happened long ago that made her be this way whenever we investigate something like an attempted airliner bomber. Sooner or later, I will find out the truth."

But for right now, we had an attempted airliner bombing suspect to question…


	6. Interrogating the Bomber

Chapter 6

"Interrogating the Bomber"

Doing as we were told, Ron and I made our way down to Beth Israel Hospital just outside of Boston to question the suspect responsible for attempting to bring down a commercial jet using a bomb of an unknown sort. Arriving at the hospital, we were met by two FBI agents who were standing guard outside the room where our suspect was in.

"We're with Global Justice," I said to the agents. "We happened to be on the same flight as the suspect that is in there."

"And what business do you have with him?" asked one of the agents. "You must know that he is dying from his wounds that he had inflicted on himself."

This came as a sudden shock and we knew that time was of the essence if we were to get anything out of this guy. It was apparent that the young Arab had suffered wounds that were fatal and that his time was almost up.

"Well, why don't we get him to talk, then?" suggested Ron. "And then at least we can be the last things he ever sees on this Earth."

Without saying another word, the two FBI agents allowed us into the room and we saw the man who tried to kill us lying in bed with a pair of handcuffs attached to the hospital bed with his left wrist in one of the cuffs. Walking up to him, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him in a sense. This was a kid that had his entire future ahead of him and for him to do something so stupid really baffled me greatly.

Still, this young man was a terror suspect and we had to question him like one. Walking up to the bed, Ron and I stood on either side looking down at him with cold hard looks. After a few moments, he opened up his eyes and turned his head over towards me.

"Guess he wants to talk to you, KP," remarked Ron as I saw the man's head nod at my appearance that I was making in front of him. "Should I just step out or…?"

"No, you can stay there," interrupted Kim. "It's better to show that this kid knows the error of his ways."

The man tried to speak, but he struggled to find words to describe what was happening in front of him. But, I knew that he had no fear of dying nor he had fear of being intimidated by someone like me.

"Do you know who is in front of you?" I asked, leaning down towards the man. "I am one of the people whom you tried to kill at 30,000 feet."

"Ah yes," replied the man weakly in his Arabic accent. "Kimberly Anne Possible, devoted soldier of the infidel and one of the many infidels needed to be destroyed."

"Well, this infidel is still alive and is disappointed and disgusted by what you have done," I retorted. "Do you realize that you are charged with federal crimes that could result in life imprisonment without parole?"

The man said nothing and merely just rolled his eyes rudely at me, pretending not to care at what I was trying to get through to him. In fact, it seemed like he didn't care what would happen to him, whether he'd be sent to prison or what. But, I could tell just from the way he was looking at me that he wanted to just die right then and there.

"Of course," he finally said. "But, Allah would grant me my wish and bring me to his heavenly paradise with 72 virgins for me to celebrate my victories with."

"You won't have any victories, pal," said Ron bitterly, trying to get the man to look at him. "Because you failed to bring down the jet and us along with it. Why don't you just admit that you are part of a terror group and spare yourself of the misery that you create?"

"Ron!" I said, silencing him. "Let me handle this, all right?"

Ron was dumbstruck by what I had said to him and did as he was told, leaving me to do all the talking. After all, this was one of those crazy terrorists that wanted to attack our country and it was better to have me question him instead of Ron.

"Look," I said, sighing to myself. "You are just a kid. What you have done has resulted in you losing everything you have probably worked your whole life for."

"I've already lost everything," snapped the man, weakly, feeling the pain devour his body. "My family was murdered by you Americans. Sheik Osama had warned you many times to leave our lands or you will be destroyed. And now, the time has come for you to be destroyed."

"What are you talking about?" I cried, leaning down and grabbing the man by the scruff of his hospital gown. "What do you mean the time has come for us to be destroyed? Are there more of you or not? Answer me!"

Still, the man merely just chuckled at this and simply smiled, nodding his head in weak amusement. He was probably thinking that all of this Ron and I were causing was just for any last minute amusement before he would pass to the other side, most likely Hell with all those other enemies of the world.

"Of course, there are others like me," said the man, smiling evilly at me. "And as of right now, they are planning an attack on you people that will teach you a lesson for not heeding our warnings."

"What lesson?" I cried, as I saw the heart monitor start to tell me that he was dying. "Tell me! Tell me!"

After a few moments, he finally succumbed to his injuries and the heart monitor began to steadily tone that sound which meant that he was dead. Dropping him to the bed, I got up and merely just stood back as the doctors and nurses came in to try and resuscitate him.

"Son of a Bitch," I muttered to myself, quietly as I stepped back from the bed. "You got away before you could tell me whom you are with."

A little while later, Ron and I left the room and made our way back to our car for the drive back to Global Justice Headquarters. As we drove back, I couldn't help but wonder of the lesson that he was trying to tell us about.

"Well, that was a waste," remarked Ron, trying to make sense of the situation around us. "Now, what do we do?"

"We find out just what he meant by that lesson that they are intending to teach us," I replied, trying to get the thoughts of him mocking us out of my mind. "It is very clear to me that what happened on the plane was a test run, Ron. It is a test run for something on a grand scale and we've got to prevent it from happening."

"Then how do you propose we do that?" suggested Ron, thinking that I would have an answer for it. "I mean, do we step out of Drakken and Shego territory and go after these people like him, whoever they are?"

Ron did hit the nail on the head there and it was very clear that we would indeed be stepping out of our usual territory to solve this case. Little did we both know that this was our first step out of the "world domination" dreams and plots of our youth and that this was our first real case dealing with real world issues that would result in people becoming martyrs.

For the first time ever, we were going to be getting involved in the War against Terrorism…


	7. Martyrs of Pan Am 103

Chapter 7

"Martyrs of Pan Am 103"

Well, that was quite an unfortunate chain of events. Just as we were trying to get the terrorist to open up about the cause of his actions, he decided to die on us. Now, we were left with the task of searching for answers without a lead. Upon our return to Global Justice, Dr. Director summoned us to her office and on her desk was about five pictures of young people just like us.

"Dr. Director, we tried to get information from him," I started to say. "But, the suspect…"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted, motioning for us to sit down in front of her desk. "I have something very important that I need to share with the both of you."

So, doing as we were told, we sat down in front of Dr. Director and began to listen to why she had these pictures of young people in front of her. They looked as if they had been with the organization many years ago and it showed based on their haircuts and such.

"Do you both see these pictures in front of you?" asked Dr. Director, explaining the importance of the pictures. "These five pictures are those of agents that had come before you. They were just like you, trying to balance a normal life with the dedication that is required to be an agent of this organization."

It was then that I suddenly began to notice one of the pictures, located on the far left side. The picture was of a young man with short black hair and a very athletic body. I never knew the young man, but I felt like I've known him.

"I remember hearing about this guy, Dr. Director," I remarked, taking the picture into my hands for a few moments, studying it carefully. "My father, Dr. James Possible, was friends with his father."

"Then, you must know that is Agent John Patrick Flynn, am I correct?" said Dr. Director. "He was one of 35 students from Syracuse University that was travelling home from a study abroad program in London. He had been with Global Justice for 5 years and was on the verge of retiring to focus on his normal life. In fact, five of these people served Global Justice in operations over in the Middle East. We were tasked by the government to spy on any retaliation as a result of the shooting down of an Iranian Airliner over the Persian Gulf that summer."

As Dr. Director spoke, I couldn't help but begin to picture the pain that she was keeping inside of her. There was no doubt nor question in my mind whatsoever that the events of recent were starting to have some kind of impact on her. In fact, her moods and behaviors made me think back to the ghosts who were trying to tell me about failing to stop those terrorists who attacked Madrid almost two years earlier. Nevertheless, Ron and I continued to listen to what she had to say.

"Two of these agents were based at Syracuse University," continued Dr. Director. "The other three were aiding the German government in breaking up a terror cell near Dusseldorf the previous summer."

"Since when did we start tracking down terrorists?" remarked Ron. "As far as I was concerned, aren't Drakken and Shego considered the terrorists?"

"No, Agent Stoppable," replied Dr. Director. "Criminals like Dr. Drakken and Shego want world domination. These terrorists fight governments by attacking their citizens in situations where they would normally be taken for granted, such as air travel."

Dr. Director then produced a piece of paper that had a very short, but very important message written on it. It was written almost like a warning that would normally be posted in a newspaper or something.

"What you are seeing here," said Dr. Director, showing us the paper. "Was a warning sent from the US Embassy in Helsinki about avoiding Pan Am flights flying from Frankfurt to the United States. Our agents were always ordered to fly Pan Am and TWA whenever they travel abroad and we had discovered the plot, but we didn't know which flights would be targeted."

"So, what happened?" I asked and Dr. Director took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. I could tell that she was starting to become emotional and I knew that she needed to be consoled. "And if you don't want to continue, by all means, we can stop."

"No, you need to both understand this," replied Dr. Director, firmly. "We didn't take the warnings seriously because with the terror cell in Germany broken up, we thought that air travel was safe and that the warning in Helsinki was a hoax. Two weeks later, our five agents boarded Pan Am Flight 103 at London Heathrow Airport for a transatlantic flight to New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport. 38 minutes later, the plane disappeared and crashed onto Lockerbie, Scotland, killing five of the best agents we ever had."

It was at this point that Dr. Director slouched back down in her seat and sighed heavily, looking up to the ceiling. She remained silent for a few minutes, before lowering her head back down to us.

"These five people were killed because I failed to protect them," said Dr. Director, her voice filled with remorse. "Now, with what is happening in the Middle East once again, I need to protect this country more than ever and I need the both of you to help me reach that goal."

Rising to our feet, Ron and I were both going to stand by our leader's side. If this was truly going to be my last mission for Global Justice, then by God, it would be something that Dr. Director would be proud of.

"We cannot allow these men to carry out these attacks," she ordered. "I need the both of you to fly to London and aide our British colleagues in stopping this plan from being carried out. One thing that this country should never experience ever again is another Pan Am 103 and another 9/11. Stop these terrorists and make sure that these five young people did not die in vain."

Heeding the warnings from our supreme commander, Ron and I left Dr. Director's office, determined to keep our country safe from harm from those like the man who tried to blow us out of the sky using a bomb of an unknown sort.

Little did we know that this mission was going to define not only our legacies, but our lives as well…


	8. Leaving for London

Chapter 8

"Leaving for London"

A few days after our meeting with Dr. Director, Ron and I were once again on our way to Boston's Logan Airport for an overnight flight to London's Heathrow Airport. Only this time, it wasn't for a vacation, but rather a mission to prevent a repeat of the terrorist bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 all those years ago. In the aftermath of the attempted bombing of Flight 213, security was tightened with extra officers from the TSA, local and Massachusetts State Police.

Fortunately, we got through security without any issues and soon, we arrived at Gate E8A and waited to board British Airways Flight 212 at 7:20pm. Of course, anyone could be planning a follow up to the Flight 213 bombing, so Ron and I had to be on our guard for any signs of suspicion. Still, there was a more pressing matter that needed to be addressed.

"Hey, KP," said Ron as we waited to board. "Your dad knew that kid that was on the Pan Am plane that blew up over Scotland?"

"They actually went to school together," I replied, taking a drink of bottled water. "Afterwards, they settled in New Jersey while my folks settled in Massachusetts. From what I remember, JP had promise in his family only to have all taken away at such a young age. I could only imagine what Dr. Director is going through right now."

"Well, whoever these punks are," remarked Ron. "They are certainly no different than any enemy we have faced yet, Kim. Just remember, we are in this thing together."

Ron then grabbed my hand and kissed it as I let out a small giggle. His commitment to working together on this made me feel very good and confident at whatever tasked laid ahead for us. This was the final mission for me and the combination of this and waiting for word from either Harvard or Brown was clearly taking a toll on me. But, Ron was going to be there for support all the way through. The events with the Lowardians during Graduation was clear proof of that.

A little while later, we boarded the Boeing 747 and took off into the midsummer night sky over Boston, heading over the North Atlantic. Right after takeoff, Ron and I settled in while also being vigilant for any signs of trouble.

"Nothing's going down right now," I whispered as we watched the activities in our cabin. "Everything seems to be in normal state of mind."

"Well, might as well just sit back and enjoy the ride, KP," sighed Ron. "I'm just going to hit the head. Be back in a bit."

So, Ron waltzed over to the bathroom and once again, did not see that the bathroom was occupied. Also, once again, a father and his young daughter were inside giving Ron an incredulous stare.

"You bloody idiot," hissed the British father. "Did you not see that we were occupying this lavatory?"

"Sorry, but you know that maybe there should be a…" Ron stated to say, but the father pulled him into the bathroom and began to teach him a lesson. There were muffled screams, but the rest of the passengers assumed that it was a parent spanking a child for bad behavior.

Ron returned a few minutes later, looking none the worse for wear as he had a black eye over his left eye and his hair was messed up. By now, most of the cabin had fallen asleep except for us, but that was about to change.

"Hey, Kim, you might want to get some sleep," suggested Ron. "You look tired."

"No, Ron," I yawned. "Danger is going to strike at any time. We have to be on our guard at all times."

"Let me take over," insisted Ron, with Rufus also in agreement. "You need to get some beauty sleep and Rufus and I will keep an eye out for trouble, okay?"

Although it was against my better judgment, I fell asleep and left the love of my life and his pet naked mole rat to look for any signs of trouble. Several hours went by and I soon awakened by the sounds of Ron's voice as he tried to wake me up.

"Kim, Kim," he whispered. "We're landing soon. Better get ready for our meeting with our counterparts."

"What counterparts, Ron?" I replied, yawning as I tried to once again adjust to the time change.

"Duh!" remarked Ron. "The British counterparts of Global Justice, the people we are supposed to be helping in catching these guys and stop them from carrying out a bloodbath over the Atlantic?"

I was still groggy by the time we landed at Heathrow Airport and taxied over to Terminal 4. Entering the United Kingdom was smooth and quick and after our bags were collected, we took a taxi into the center of London and towards the Crowne Plaza St. James Hotel, where we would be staying during the mission.

"You must be Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable," said one of the concierges. "I have you in Room 164 and your companions are in Room 166. My name is David if you need anything at all."

So, our first impressions were seemingly that the hotel staff was friendly and that the location was favorable. Although, I will admit that being so close to the Queen did raise a few eyebrows. It's not every day that someone gets to be neighbors with the Queen of England herself.

"Is that a good idea that we are so close together?" I wondered as we changed our clothes for our upcoming meeting.

"What do you mean, KP?" asked Ron adjusting his red bow tie. "It's not like our counterparts want to get into anything that is not there's. Maybe you are just dealing with the effects of the jetlag."

"I suppose you are right," I said as I came out of the bathroom wearing my sleeveless navy blue dress that I wore on special occasions. "Or maybe it is because there is a lot going through my mind right now."

"There is a lot going through everyone's minds, KP," remarked Ron as I slid on my stockings and then my black dress sandals. "It seemed like we just can't catch a break with Graduation, the attempt on our lives at 30,000 feet. But, then again, we are quite used to it."

I said nothing to that remark as I stood in front of a mirror to make sure that my dress didn't have any wrinkles on it.

"By the way, Kim," said Ron. "If you don't mind my asking, you've been wearing that dress a lot. Is there any reason for it?"

"Well," I replied. "Aside from it being my favorite to wear for special occasions, it holds a lot of memories, some good like your cousin's wedding after you gave up being evil, and bad for nearly disappearing with you-know-who. But, aside from that, it's your all-time favorite outfit of mine."

"Perfect for a meeting of this magnitude," chuckled Ron as we walked out of the hotel room and down to the lobby for our meeting to start the chain of events that would lead to stopping the biggest terror plot since 9/11…


	9. Meeting at St James

Chapter 9

"Meeting at St. James"

Walking down from our hotel room, Ron and I had barely a chance to catch up on the time zone. We both knew that time was of the essence and that 2,000 or more lives hung in the balance. To this end, we changed our clothes and walked down to the ground floor coming up to a large meeting hall in the west wing of the Crown Plaza St. James Hotel.

"Hi," said Ron to the man standing guard. "We have a meeting here with a couple of people from…"

"Global Justice?" interrupted the man, looking down at a sheet of paper that was in front of him. "Yes, they are waiting on the other side for the both of you."

Approaching the door, I nervously knocked on the door not knowing who the people on the other side were and whether we would be working well with them or not. Feeling an itch on the back of my stocking clad legs, I carefully rubbed my feet against them so as not tear a hole in them.

"Come in," called a gruff British sounding voice and we opened the door to reveal a room surrounded in red that only had a light shining on a table where five people were sitting. "Shut the door behind you, Possible."

Motioning for Ron to come in, I carefully and quietly shut the door as we walked up to the table. Upon advancing to the table, I sat down while trying to hide the sweat that was already starting to trickle down my face. I couldn't believe it, here I was in my favorite special occasion dress meeting with my fellow Global Justice agents and I was already starting to break a sweat.

"It's all right, Kim," whispered Ron, clutching my hand and patting on it gently. "We're going to get through this together."

"Now then," said the man, clearing his throat. "We are all here because of a threat against up to 2,000 lives that is about to take fruition. For the past few months, our Global Justice field agents and specialists have been tracking a group of suspected men in and around London. More recently, one of these men attempted to bring down a British Airways flight as it landing in Boston."

The man then turned his attention over to us and thus put me and Ron on the spot. I began to wonder that was probably the reason why we were summoned in the first place.

"And that is why you are both here, Agents Possible and Stoppable," said the man, motioning us for to stand up. "To help us stop this terror cell. However, it has come to our attention that you were on the same flight that the terrorists tried to bring down. Can you give us any context of what happened on the flight?"

Realizing that there was no turning back, I sighed and brushed a lock of my auburn hair out of my eyes. I was nervous, but I had to be strong in front of my peers. It wasn't their fault that I was nervous, a lot was going through my mind and it was very difficult to process.

"Well," I began as I sat down. "We were returning from a trip to Spain and the man in question had gone into the bathroom, supposedly to do his business and then go back to his seat. A few minutes later, we heard a muffled popping sound coming from inside and once the door opened, the man came out and was covered in residue."

As I spoke, the group began taking down notes of whatever was being said on the flight. It seemed as if they were trying to learn of the terrorist's motivations and why he was doing what he did.

"Residue, you say?" said another man. "What kind of residue was there, Agent Possible?"

"It was like a powdery residue," I answered. "His clothes were torn off and he had burns all over his body. The color of the residue was a very grayish color. I didn't see any fire or anything like that."

"Well, Agent Possible," said the lead man finally. "It is very clear to us that your testimony shows to us just exactly what we feared would happen: these lads are planning to smuggle liquid bombs onto passenger planes."

It was then that Ron raised his hand to speak and I saw him write down several bits of information on a piece of paper. Even Rufus was also helping, trying to write down his side of the story as well. I found this to be a little humorous to tell you the truth, because I knew his handwriting would not be seen clearly with the naked eye.

"May we ask what you are writing down, Agent Stoppable?" asked the leader, as Ron finished writing.

"Well, I wanted to write to you just what I saw on the flight," he replied, much to my surprise. "As I was waiting to go into the bathroom, I saw that he had some kind of soda bottle in his hand and a small bag in the other."

"Then, why didn't you say anything, Agent Stoppable?" remarked the leader. "Were you aware that the man in question was a bomber?"

"I was too focused on going to the bathroom," protested Ron, much to my annoyance. "When you gotta go, you gotta go. That's how it is, unfortunately."

Well, despite his remarks, Ron did provide a little information about what was in the bomber's hands, so I did give him credit for that. Still, the fact that he didn't alert anyone was enough to give him cold stares from the group as well as myself.

"Then, what do we do have to look out for?" asked another man. "Do we have to find out where they are buying the substances and such?"

"We have to first find out who is ordering them to carry out the attacks in question," replied the leader. "According to our intelligence sources, these men have been going back and forth between Islamabad and London for over a month. Once they all are together, then we can start to intensify our surveillance until the moment is right."

Once the leader had finished answering the man's question, he turned his attention over to us and took off his glasses for a minute to rub his eyes, before sliding them back on.

"Until then," he continued. "Agents Possible and Stoppable, I need you to look into whether there were any security breaches at Heathrow and any other airports that allowed this man to get on your flight. We will continue our surveillance and notify you when all of the suspects are back in London. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," we replied and soon, the meeting was over and we prepared to head back to Heathrow to start our investigation…


	10. Security Breaches

Chapter 10

"Security Breaches"

After a meeting where much about lax security had been revealed, we immediately left for Heathrow Airport once again to start our investigation into this terror cell that planned mass murder on an unprecedented scale. Now that the meeting was over, I was able to calm myself down for a little bit. I had stopped sweating and shaking for the most part, but my mind was still going at full speed.

"No word from any schools yet, KP?" wondered Ron as I looked down at the Kimmunicator while we drove back to Heathrow. "I'm really amazed that they haven't gave any word."

"Yeah, it's frustrating," I sighed, putting the Kimmunicator back in my purse. "But, what can you do? You can't force anything on anyone, even pushing for an acceptance date. Besides, we have more important things to worry about."

"I wouldn't say that," suggested Ron, taking off his red bow tie now that the all-important meeting was over. "Family and personal matters come first before anything else, Kim, you know that."

"I know, but we can't let these people create another 9/11, Ron," I remarked. "Think about that for a second."

Ron knew that I was right, we couldn't allow a second 9/11 to be carried out. We had to both think about what was at stake if we didn't stop these people. We couldn't focus on my college application process now and that was all there was to it.

After a short drive, we arrived at Heathrow's terminal four and met up with the director of security for British Airways, a German man named Ulrich Weber who had previously been the head of Pan Am's security system, Alert Management at Frankfurt Airport at the time of the Lockerbie Bombing of 1988.

"It's not surprising that you people would show up," he said as we sat down in his office. "It was only a matter of time before investigators from the FAA would come knocking on my door."

"You must understand that we are from the FAA, Mr. Weber," I replied. "We are actually from Global Justice and we are trying to prevent a terrorist attack from being carried out."

"Like I tried to help stop Lockerbie," sighed Ulrich. "I was chased out of Pan Am for allowing it to happen and now my job is on line because of this one. Is it that I am destined for airplanes to be blown out of the sky on my watch, is that it?"

Ron and I could both feel the pain that this man was going through. From the sounds of it, Ulrich was a highly respected individual that had just been hit with a string of bad luck.

"I wouldn't exactly say that," I remarked. "But, I was wondering if you knew of anyone that was manning the security checkpoints on July 17th, the day of the bombing."

"Well, it's my understanding, Ms. Possible that the airport is responsible for overseeing these security staff members," said Ulrich, as he started playing around with a pen. "However, every security staff member is assigned by a certain airline. I did have a few new officers that had just been trained."

With each word that he was saying, Ron and I wrote down any word that we both felt would be useful in the investigation. Still, there was the question of whether or not the terrorists were so elusive in smuggling these bomb components, that not even Ulrich and his people would take notice of them.

"And which of these devices were your people supposed to keep an eye on in particular?" asked Ron.

"Well, for items that aren't supposed to go on an airplane," replied Ulrich, as he began to light a cigarette. "Whatever was managed to get on your flight was something that was probably not picked up, like an explosive of some sort."

"We have reason to believe that this was probably a liquid bomb, Mr. Weber," I said, as I put my notepad back into my purse. "Terrorists will find a way to smuggle their weapons through security if its people are not aware enough of the situations in general. Perhaps your people may need to be trained in being more vigilant."

This seemed to not sit well with Ulrich, but he knew that I was right. Perhaps not all of his people were not vigilant and that it was something that both he and his people needed to work on. This wasn't just a job to serve the public, it was a job to protect the public.

"I suppose you are both right," sighed Ulrich, knowing now what was at stake. "270 people died while I was with Pan Am and I almost didn't get this job because of it. The airlines think I am too risky, but I want to prove them wrong."

"I like to hear that determination, Mr. Weber," I replied. "Now, there is one thing we need to ask of you. We need to have your security tapes from July 17th at around 8:00 or 9:00 in the morning."

"Of course," said Ulrich, reaching over to his phone. "I will ask for the tapes at once, Ms. Possible."

So, we left Ulrich's office and made our way over to Heathrow's Terminal 4 security screening checkpoint and almost immediately, we detected a fault in the security system. The scanners were black and white and were thus unable to pick up all that was being detected.

"Hey Ron, do you see that?" I asked, nudging him in the side. "That security system seems to not be working very well. It's all black and white."

Ron closely looked at the machines and could only agree with me upon further inspection. He knew that this could only mean that there was much more than just random lives at stake. We both knew that our families and friends were at risk of a major bombing not just out of London, but anywhere in the world to be in general.

"Do you think that they tried to take advantage of it, KP?" wondered Ron. "If so, then this airport is a sitting duck for terrorists."

"For once, you hit the nail right on the head, Ron," I replied as we closely watched the security officers on duty. "We've just discovered the first in potentially a long list of security faults that need to be looked at. Might as well start interviewing officers who were on duty the day of the attempted bombing."

So, we made our way over to the security checkpoint and began to watch the machines and the actions of the officers rather closely. Both Ron and I could tell that these officers were in need of a training to prepare themselves for something. Hey, there was no better to start than now, eh?


	11. Gaps in the System

Chapter 11

"Gaps in the System"

Going over to the security line was the only option Ron and I had if we were going to be starting the chain of events that would stop the second 9/11. Our meeting with current head of security, Ulrich Weber, gave us an indication that he was going to do whatever he could to support our investigation. We hated to pull people aside, but we had no other choice.

"It's funny that you come forward to question me," said a security agent, after we pulled him from his post at the machines. "I was manning the systems on that day and the system was not working. So, don't come to me with a story that I was to blame for what happened."

But, Ron and I stood our ground. Once again, time was of the essence and rude behavior of this nature was not going to be tolerated in any way. Lives were at stake and it was our job to defend the countrymen that we were sworn to protect.

"Did you have any idea that there were people going through your lines that had deadly intentions?" I asked, tapping my left dress sandal impatiently. "You do realize that you are talking to two people that were on the plane that was nearly destroyed."

"And I'm Queen Elizabeth," scoffed the man, who clearly had no respect for who we are. "Just go away and let me get back to work."

"Don't you move!" I hissed sternly at the man and pulling my Global Justice badge out of my purse. "You are talking to two agents of the United States government, pal. And if I were you, I'd start talking or else I will let your boss know of your behavior and you'll be out of a job!"

The man didn't care and merely just shrugged us off and went back to work. This was a rude way to start and hopefully it would be the last time.

"Were you just talking to James?" asked a young female security agent, walking over to us. "I'm terribly sorry for his behavior. It's just been crazy since what happened over Boston. However, if you want to talk to someone, you can talk to me."

"Well, he's got a lot of lessons to learn," remarked Ron as we followed the young agent to a quiet part of the terminal, near one of the British Airways ticket counters. "Why don't we talk in someplace quiet?"

"Certainly, over here," replied the young agent as she led us to a small table and chairs.

Sitting down, Ron and I were ready to listen to whatever this young girl had to say. From the looks of it, she seemed very insightful of this situation and this was a person that we thought could give us the best information possible and help our situation.

"Now, we are only asking you questions about the security here at Heathrow," I said, pulling out my Global Justice badge from my purse. "Before we talk to you, here is our credentials for you to look at."

The girl looked at our badges and then she smiled at us, almost as if she knew who we were and what we were doing.

"Agent Kim Possible and Agent Ron Stoppable," she remarked, smiling at us. "I've heard many stories about you both. Didn't you stop an alien invasion recently?"

"During graduation," said Ron. "You might say that. But, thanks to the mystical monkey power, those aliens won't be bothering another planet anymore. Although they did leave quite a clean-up bill."

"My brother serves for Global Justice," said the girl. "Agent Willy Wonka III, our grandfather was the famous candy man Willy Wonka, God rest his soul. Anyways, he had been doing surveillance on these strange men that had been coming in from the Middle East."

Knowing that this person was talking at last, we took out our pens and papers and began to jot down any information that could be valuable.

"How come we never met this Agent Wonka, Kim?" asked Ron.

"Because he was responsible for missions in the United Kingdom," said the girl. "I'm Charlotte Wonka, Agent Wonka's younger sister."

"Well, it is a delight to meet you at last," I remarked warmly, shaking Charlotte's hand. "I hope you have dreams of becoming a Global Justice agent."

"Eventually, when I am old enough," replied Charlotte, who continued to show warmth at our prescense. "However, there is no better time to learn than now if I ever want to achieve my dream."

As we continued our conversation, a voice inside of me began to say that somehow this individual could be playing a much bigger role as this story went on. She was maybe the one that I could trust my skills to after all is said and done. Still, I had to remain focused on the task at hand and worry about this potential change later.

"But to answer your question," continued Charlotte. "My brother was talking of spying on a group of Pakistani men for several months and he saw them hold meetings in several seedy bars in and around London."

"Did your brother bring anything to record the conversations?" asked Ron. "He must have taken something from it."

"Well, he did bring a tape recorder," answered Charlotte. "But, because he was a secret agent, he had to tell our parents that he was going out to tape bird calls. I knew he was lying, but it was for the security of his job and the organization."

That of course, wasn't true. Ron and I were agents, but we were known worldwide for our actions. Besides, who else knew that we were able to do what we had done? Perhaps, there was something that made the British branch of Global Justice seem very mysterious to the outside world?

"We are going to need the tape recorder," I said, rising to our feet. "If you could just give it to us, it would help us in our investigation."

"I will do what I can, Agent Possible," replied Charlotte. "However, it will be my brother that will be the one to turn over the recordings. I can assure you that he will comply whether he likes it or not."

Trusting on her word, Ron and I left Heathrow's terminal 4 and made our way back to the Crowne Plaza St. James that afternoon to collectively gather all that we had learned in the first day of our investigation. For the time being, we had the security tapes from July 17th in our possession and now we were reviewing them.

"There is the guy that tried to kill us," said Ron as we watched the tapes that night. "Wait a minute, KP, do you see that?"

"I do," I replied and I magnified the screen to advance on the image that was about to go through the scanner. "Seems to me like a soda bottle, but there is something in there that looks suspicious, almost like a liquid bomb."

Knowing what was at stake, we stopped the tape and then our hotel room phone rang and I raced over to pick it up.

"Hello?" I asked as I listened to whoever was on the other line. "May I ask who is calling?"

When I heard who it was, my mouth dropped and I looked back at Ron with a worried expression.

"What is it, Kim?" he asked.

"That was Barkin on the other line," I replied in a groaning voice, burying my head in the palm of my left hand. "He's been assigned to help us in our investigation."

I couldn't believe it, the man was everywhere and even after graduating from High School, we couldn't get rid of him. Well, the more the merrier, I always say…


	12. Barkin Joins the Investigation

Chapter 12

"Barkin Joins the Investigation"

Going downstairs the following morning, Ron and I were both stunned to learn that Mr. Steve Barkin, the jack of all trades teacher from Middleton High was joining the investigation. I was probably thinking of that maybe Mr. Barkin couldn't live to be without us as he did say that things at Middleton High were going to be boring without me. I was also thinking that maybe he couldn't bear to be around the tweebs and thus, wanted me to repeat freshmen year in their place. All these questions were going through my mind as we headed down to the meeting hall to start another day of investigating.

"You are probably wondering why this gentleman that you know is present with us today?" asked our British Global Justice leader. "Well, Mr. Steven Barkin is a schoolteacher of many trades, but he also has experience with air crash investigations."

"That is correct, Mr. Jones," replied Mr. Barkin, rising to his feet and walking over to the projector board as we learned the name of the British representative of Global Justice for the first time. "You see, Possible and Stoppable, while you were just barely getting used to the world, I was a junior investigator in the terrorist bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland."

Barkin then motioned for the lights to go off and we just sat there listening and seeing what was being presented before us. Both Ron and I could only wonder how much Mr. Barkin had done in his whole life.

"This was the cockpit of the _Clipper Maid of the Seas_ ," explained Mr. Barkin, pointing the stick right at the destroyed cockpit. "As a matter of fact, this tragic picture became the face of the disaster. I was actually one of the poor souls who were tasked of getting the bodies of the pilots out. Let me tell you all something, it wasn't easy."

"Why am I not surprised?" whispered Ron to himself. "I'm surprised that it didn't reek in there of decomposing corpses."

Ron may have kept his voice down, but Mr. Barkin always had the talent for quickly picking up on any sound. So, he turned his attention sharply over to us.

"I heard that, Stoppable," he remarked, pointing the stick at Ron's neck. "And if you weren't a graduate, I'd throw you in detention for that. So, if I were you, buddy, I'd shut up and pay attention."

Ron behaved better after that as Mr. Barkin cleared his throat and resumed his speech. As much as I admired and respected Mr. Barkin as much as the next person, his speeches were a clear indication that this was more tell than show or the other way around. Yes, he was known for all of these speeches and I will have to admit, I've fallen asleep at a few of them. Got me into trouble with him a few times.

"Now then," said Mr. Barkin, resuming his briefing as the next slide showed what appeared to be the bomb components used to bring down the jet. "We had recovered from Lockerbie this substance used as part of the suitcase bomb that brought down Flight 103. This is a little piece of material called semtex."

Mr. Barkin then loudly pointed the stick at the picture, causing a sharp noise that made my bare arms become goose pimpled for a moment. In fact, it was starting to feel a little cold in here or was it just me.

"Semtex can be used in anything," continued Mr. Barkin. "You can make into a newspaper or even paint it blue and disguise it as a Dr. Scholl's foot gel that people use to make their feet lose the pain that they have. But, all that matters, is that terrorists can sneak it through security at any time and it would not even be detected."

"However, we believe that semtex can also be melted down into a liquid," added Mr. Jones, rising to his feet. "Once melted down, it can be mixed with hydrogen peroxide and a drink powder, thus it can be used to create a liquid explosive."

After those words were said, the lights came on and everyone knew what was at stake. Now, it was a matter of knowing who the suspects were. These things didn't make themselves you know and both Ron and I knew it.

"Now, for the past few months," explained Mr. Jones, allowing Mr. Barkin to return to his assigned seat. "We have been monitoring a group of men that we believe are planning something on this magnitude."

At that moment, a pair of pictures were placed under an overhead light, kind of like the ones that were used in science class and the pictures showed three young men, all in their 20's or even 30's and looks of pure evil were shown on their faces.

"These guys make my skin crawl," I thought to myself. "In fact, it makes me think back to when Josh finally snapped on me."

I had a very good reason to be a little nervous. These men did remind me of Josh's actions that fateful night in the park while Ron and I were on our first date as a couple. The one in the middle somehow shared the same look that Josh made when he forced me to strip down to my underwear. Had I known that this man was giving the same look, I wouldn't have worn this sleeveless blue dress that represented my innocence and beauty.

"Now, these three men we have kept under the most surveillance," continued Mr. Jones. "For the past few months, they have been travelling between England and Pakistan several times a week. With each time they return to the United Kingdom, they had reportedly brought several bomb components into the country."

"Then why didn't you stop them?" asked Ron, only for Mr. Barkin to quickly silence him by giving him a look.

"Because, Mr. Stoppable, they looked harmless and no threat to aviation security," continued Mr. Jones. "Now, we believe that with all the frequent trips now completed, the time has come for them to put the bombs together. However, we cannot allow them to know that we are following them. Our tactic is the element of surprise and that is where you two come in."

Mr. Jones directed his attention towards me and Ron. I couldn't believe that he was going to have us get closer to these men. We had just been through with Warhok and Warmonga, so this was a very surprising turn of events.

"Why choose us?" I wondered.

"Because according to your files," replied Mr. Jones. "You have gone undercover to capture and or defeat your enemies in the past. A couple of examples are against a dog show host named Falsetto Jones and into a comic convention, to name a few. If you don't mind my asking, do you still have the suits used in those missions?"

"I think we do, Mr. Jones," I answered, awkwardly. "But, the black stealth suit I wore battling Falsetto Jones starts out as a black evening gown. Unless if you have anything dressy you'd like me and Ron to attend…"

"As a matter of fact, we do," interrupted Mr. Jones. "According to our survaliance, this man, Tanvir Hussan, likes to dine at the famed Claridge's restaurant and hotel owned by Chef Gordon Ramsay. Every Tuesday, he and his comrades hold meetings here and discuss plans for terrorist attacks in a private room that is normally reserved for special events."

Now, knowing what we needed to do, Ron and I both knew that the meeting was going to be coming to an end and that we would be getting ready to join in spying these young men. However, Mr. Jones had one more thing to say.

"Furthermore," he said. "I have personally assigned Mr. Barkin to be your supervisor during this mission, Agents Possible and Stoppable."

"That is correct," added Mr. Barkin, showing off the gun that he used to shoot and kill Josh Mankey. "As you know, Possible, I was the one who saved you and Stoppable from that demented Josh Mankey a year ago and I probably think you don't want to relive a similar experience again."

Knowing that there was no other choice, we agreed to the offers that were made and left the meeting to prepare for our first surveillance mission at the famed Claridge's restaurant, under the supervision of Mr. Barkin, of course…


	13. Spying at Claridge's

Chapter 13

"Spying at Claridge's"

As we had discussed at the previous meeting, Ron and I arrived at Claridge's restaurant to spy on the terrorists. It was very odd that young men like these had the money necessary to hold meetings at this luxurious restaurant in one of the most famous hotels in London. Still, this was a place that would be a perfect place for the evils of the world to gather, kind of like what Drakken and all our enemies had done in the past.

Dressed in the same clothes we wore on our mission to infiltrate Falsetto Jones' dog show, we entered the restaurant, incognito, as normal customers trying to keep a low profile to avoid any unwanted attention.

"So far, so good Ron," I said as we followed the Matri D' to our table with Ron escorting me. "Still, who would want to dine at a place like this to discuss murder?"

"Oh, the imaginers and storytellers that this city is known for," remarked Ron. "Wonder who we could spot in here: Dickens, Shakespeare…"

"They are all dead, Ron," I interrupted as we sat down at our assigned table. "If there were still alive, then they would look really old for their ages."

Just then, I noticed one of the terrorists in question walking across the dining room towards a large party area. Many of the people were Middle Eastern and they were clearly up to no good. It was very obvious that these were the people our British counterparts were spying on and for good reason. The time had now come for me to learn their motives and what they were planning to do with their plan of epic death over the Atlantic Ocean.

"All right, I need time to monitor their activities," I said to Ron, rising to my feet, knowing what needed to be done as I still kept my eye on the targeted room. "Try to keep a low profile."

"Low pro, got it," said Ron as Rufus leapt out of his pocket, much to my chagrin, since Rufus could get out of hand with his size and all. "Good boy."

"Uh, Ron, we are not at a dog show," I reminded. "Now, if the waiter comes back, tell him that I'm in the bathroom."

Ron merely shrugged his shoulders as I left the dining hall and proceeded to enter a quiet area of the restaurant, right near a vent that hopefully led to the banquet hall where the terrorists were holding their meeting. With no one looking, I pressed on my red pendant that I was wearing, and my black evening gown transformed into a black stealth suit, just like when I was spying on Falsetto Jones.

"Looks the Stealth suit is working well after a lack of us," I said to our friend and technical expert Wade Load in the Kimmunicator.

"Knew it would, Kim," replied Wade, who was wearing a similar stealth suit for men. "All right, the terrorists should be nearby along the right vent route. Once you hear their voices, you will know where to be."

Taking off the vent cover, I jumped up into the vent and began to crawl as quickly and as quietly as I could, trying to listen to the sounds of the terrorists talking. It took a while for me to find the source where the sounds were coming from and soon, I came up to Arabic voices being heard and taking a tape recorder out of my holster, determined to record anything that was being said.

"All right," I thought to myself, placing the tape recorder against the vents. "Let's hear what you have to say, you murderers."

For the next few minutes, all of the people in the hall began to talk in various stages. After a moment, they all quieted down and I listened in as the meeting began with an opening prayer in Arabic.

"Meeting will come to order," said a young Arab man, holding a piece of paper before looking to another young Arab man. "Oliver, we have you down for a report on the gathering of the materials for our mission. How is everything going over there?"

"So far brother," replied Oliver, reading off some papers. "We have acquired approximately $250 worth of material. Our brothers in Pakistan have agreed to ship us the semtex for a 1,000 pounds. For the time being, we had been tasked by our superiors to gather disposable cameras and batteries by the end of the month."

"Indeed," said another man, who was stroking his beard and glaring at Oliver. "As for the test run that had been completed on Flight 213, you forgot to mention that our young brother had failed to bring the plane, like he had been ordered to."

"For Allah's sake, Abdullah," protested Oliver. "What was I supposed to do? Go on the plane and hold his hand while he put the bomb together?"

It was very obvious at this point that the bomber who tried to kill us was associated with these people who wanted nothing more than death in their lives. Still, I listened in with the intent of recording much of this meeting as possible.

"All we need are results, my brothers," explained Abdullah, banging his hands on the table. "We need to show the infidel that as long as they are killing our people, we will kill their people. What needs to be done is to create a message that will drive the infidels back."

"But, their measures to protect themselves from our attacks," said another terrorist. "They have…"

"Never been successful, Mohammed," interrupted Abdullah. "True, they have prevented us from doing what our brothers did in our greatest triumph, but everything has a weakness and it is up to us to find the weakness in the infidels' armor."

I then proceeded to watch Abdullah burn a picture of an American flag that was printed from a computer before placing it in a bowl of cold water.

"To this end," continued Abdullah. "While we cannot strike the infidel in the homeland any longer, we can find a weakness on journeys to the infidel. That is why we need this island as our launch pad to carry out our plan."

Abdullah then turned to the man that was sitting on his right and raised one of his eyebrows slightly in an effort to get him to participate in the meeting.

"Tanvir, have we decided on any targeted flights yet?" asked Abdullah.

"It is still being considered, Abdullah," replied Tanvir. "We have been looking at flights that most of the infidels' people would travel to. Furthermore, it is my belief that some of the infidels' people will not travel directly to the infidels' land and will head to their allies in the north in an effort to escape us."

My eyes widened at this, for I could honestly believe that these men were planning to attack flights to Canada as well. Some could argue that Canada was like the United States in a way, given that they had beliefs and similar ways of life.

"Then, we must target Canadian flights as well," said Abdullah, turning his attention over to. "To this end, we must also conduct small tests over the next few weeks. Our fathers are expecting us to carry out the message on the infidels as soon as possible."

Abdullah then turned over to Mohammed and motioned for him to write down a series of instructions on a piece of paper.

"Mohammed," he continued. "I want 50 pounds of the drink powder used in completing our explosive bought over the next three days. I don't care if you have to rob anyone, I want these tests to be successful to avoid a repeat of what happened."

With that, I quickly and quietly darted along the vents and came back down through the opening. Once I went into the bathroom, I reverted from my stealth suit into my black evening gown and quickly returned to the table where Ron and Rufus were waiting.

"Did you find anything?" Ron asked as I sat back down at the table. "By the way, the waiter came by several times to see if you were back from the bathroom."

"That doesn't matter," I replied, hastily. "You are not going to believe what I had found out. These guys seem to be planning to attack more than one plane."

"Well, duh! Of course, KP," remarked Ron. "You never know what these guys are capable of. What did you find out?"

"Well, let's just say," I said, worriedly. "That the clock is ticking."

And indeed the clock was ticking, based on the methods that these men were planning to use…


	14. List of Flights

Chapter 14

"List of Flights"

Spying on the terrorists at Claridge's gave us all a good indication on what was at stake. The thought of attacking not just American, but Canadian flights as well. While we didn't know just exactly how many flights were targeted, we knew that the components that the men were trying to buy were dangerous, capable of being used to make a bomb.

"So, it appears we know what is at stake," said Mr. Jones at a meeting the day after spying on the men. "These people indeed have murderous intentions and we cannot take this lightly in any way. I want us to start picking up the pace on these murderers."

"If only that would be so easily," I sighed. "From what I saw, they look to be stopping at nothing. Furthermore, they treat themselves like gangsters of the 1920's, seemingly to hide their true identities."

Mr. Barkin took this remark into account very well, for he seemed to notice that I probably remember that one gangster movie we watched when I was still in high school, something about the St. Valentine's Day Massacre with Jason Robards.

"You seem to be catching on, Possible," he chuckled, before turning his attention towards the entire table. "Terrorists will do anything to hide their true motives, including trying to act like civilized gentlemen. You must never underestimate the true intentions of terrorists. No matter what you do, never believe them for anything that they are meant to be."

"That is correct, Mr. Barkin," agreed Mr. Jones. "As they always say, 'you can't judge a book by its cover.'"

As Mr. Jones spoke, we took in each word that both he and Mr. Barkin were saying. There had been times where I had been believed that someone was who they were. No one was more infamous than Eric, the Synthrodrome or especially Josh, whom I still had feeling for despite his actions against me and Ron.

"Now, we have our assignment for today that I will share with all of you," said Mr. Jones, picking up a piece of paper from his desk. "According to our spies from overnight, the terrorists have reportedly begun the process of selecting flights. I need Agents Possible, Stoppable and a few other people to head to a nearby internet café and download whatever flights, that the terrorists are planning to target."

"But, Mr. Jones," I said, thinking back to the night before. "Shouldn't we be looking into the items that they are buying from Pakistan to use in making these bombs?"

However, Mr. Jones had made up his mind on who should look into where the products were coming from.

"That will be my department, Possible," remarked Mr. Barkin. "I happen to have looked into how bombs are constructed and brought onto commercial airliners in the past. I will head into Heathrow and monitor any bomb components that are coming in from Pakistan or any other country in the Middle East."

"Very well," I said, feeling a sense of defeat. "We will do as you please."

So, we headed into Central London and made our way over to an internet café where one of the terrorists was sitting at a computer, appearing to have access to a computer.

"All right, Wade," I said into the Kimmunicator while we waited in a black van. "We are at the café. Someone that we are targeting is sitting at a computer looking at what appears to be a list."

"I think that he is looking at flights," replied Wade, who was also spying from his home back in the states. "They look to be leaving at around the same time or something."

"What time of day?" I asked.

"From the looks of it," answered Wade. "Some time in the afternoon, just before evening. Right at the height of Heathrow's rush hour. Then again, Heathrow is the busiest airport in Europe."

Wade did have a decent point. If terrorists were to attack a series of planes, they would have to have departed around the same time. Furthermore, they would have all had to have departed with a destination of cities in the United States or Canada. But, it was very obvious what cities they were willing to target.

"Kim, do you know of any cities they would target?" wondered Ron. "I know they are flights, but what if they intend to blow them up over land?"

"I don't know, Ron," I sighed. "We'll just have to wait and see on the list of flights."

For the next 45 minutes, we sat and waited. Finally, we saw the suspect leave and once he was out of sight, Ron and I moved into the café while everyone else stayed in the van. Trying to avoid attention, we casually walked into the café and sat down at the computer that the suspect was at.

"All right," I said, radioing into the van, where our comrades were still at, waiting for answers. "We are on the computer now, but it will take a few minutes to find anything."

"Roger that, Agent Possible," replied our comrades. "Good luck."

Knowing that one of the suspects could return, we plugged in the USB drive to copy whatever was on the hard drive.

"All right, Kim," said Wade on another radio. "I've managed to hack into the terrorists' email account and I should be transferring the list of flights to you."

"How many do you think are on there, Wade?" I asked, starting to feel the sweat dripping down my face. What Wade said next sent shockwaves throughout my body as well as Ron's.

"About eighteen flights over a two day period, Kim," Wade said shockingly, causing both me and Ron to gasp and give each other a worried look. "Yeah, they are planning a massacre of epic proportions, something even greater, much greater than 9/11 itself. You should see the list starting to form in front of you now."

So, for the next few moments, we just sat there and waited for the page to download and we couldn't believe what was in front of us. There were two separate list of flight all departing London Heathrow Airport's Terminals 3 and 4 over a two day period. They were all flights operated by four major carriers: United Airlines, American Airlines, Air Canada and British Airways.

"Oh, my God," I cried, doing a sign of the cross in disbelief. "Look at this, Ron. Do you see what we are up against?"

Reading down the list, we carefully look at each set of flights all departing in a certain time frame:

GROUP 1 (FROM LONDON HEATHROW TERMINAL 3):

AIR CANADA FLIGHT 855 FROM LHR TO VANCOUVER DEPARTING AT 2:00PM

UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 931 FROM LHR TO SAN FRANCISCO DEPARTING AT 2:15PM

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 135 FROM LHR TO LOS ANGELES DEPARTING AT 2:45PM

AIR CANADA FLIGHT 849 FROM LHR TO TORONTO/PEARSON DEPARTING AT 3:00PM

AIR CANADA FLIGHT 865 FROM LHR TO MONTREAL/TRUDEAU DEPARTING AT 3:15PM

UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 959 FROM LHR TO CHICAGO/O'HARE DEPARTING AT 3:40PM

UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 925 FROM LHR TO WASHINGTON/DULLES DEPARTING AT 4:20PM

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 131 FROM LHR TO NEW YORK/JFK DEPARTING AT 4:35PM

AMERICAN AIRLINES FLIGHT 91 FROM LHR TO CHICAGO/O'HARE DEPARTING AT 4:50PM

GROUP 2 (FROM LONDON HEATHROW TERMINAL 4):

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 175 FROM LHR TO NEW YORK/JFK DEPARTING AT 11:00AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 217 FROM LHR TO WASHINGTON/DULLES DEPARTING AT 11:10AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 213 FROM LHR TO BOSTON DEPARTING AT 11:20AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 285 FROM LHR TO SAN FRANCISCO DEPARTING AT 11:30AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 283 FROM LHR TO LOS ANGELES DEPARTING AT 11:40AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 295 FROM LHR TO CHICAGO/O'HARE DEPARTING AT 11:50AM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 93 FROM LHR TO TORONTO/PEARSON DEPARTING AT 12:00PM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 95 FROM LHR TO MONTREAL/TRUDEAU DEPARTING AT 12:10PM

BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 85 FROM LHR TO VANCOUVER DEPARTING AT 12:20PM

Realizing how valuable this information was, we quickly downloaded the timetables to the USB drive and got out of the internet café without any questions. Now, knowing what was at stake, we could only hope and pray that these terrorists could be stopped. No one knows when the attacks would take place, they didn't put up a date yet. All that mattered was saving lives and by God, that was what we were going to do…


	15. Buying the Deadly Liquids

Chapter 15

"Buying the Deadly Liquids"

The shock and disbelief that so many transatlantic flights to North America were targeted by these young terrorists over a two day period had made us truly understand what was at stake. These men were going to bomb one group of planes over the Atlantic, while the other group of terrorists would most likely bomb the other group of planes over cities and towns in the United States and Canada. As Dr. Director had told us when this final of ours took place, we could not let any follow up to 9/11 take place and by God, we were going to follow up on those orders.

While we had returned to the Crowne Plaza St. James to assess the list of flights we had obtained, Mr. Barkin was at Heathrow Airport seemingly picking up where we had left off in terms of interviewing the security personnel. He wanted to find out if any bomb components had been flown in from the Middle East or for that matter, anywhere in Europe.

"No, Mr. Barkin, we have not had any suspicious cargo arrive from the Middle East," said Ulrich as he and Mr. Barkin walked into the baggage screening area. "If there were anything suspicious, we would hold it for extra screening until further notice."

"Then, you are probably aware that after Lockerbie," advised Mr. Barkin. "International flights cannot takeoff if the passenger who checked in a bag is not on the plane."

"I am aware, Mr. Barkin," remarked Ulrich, who took out a cigarette and lit up for a smoke. "After what happened in Boston, I've sworn to never allow something like this to happen again. You must believe that we have been on pins and needles. I have been getting more visits than ever from the FAA, always aware that the threat of a $10,000 security infringement is always there."

Mr. Barkin merely nodded and proceeded to stay focused on the task at hand. Suddenly, he began to notice a pair of security scanners taking a box off of the conveyer belt and attempting to open it up. Ulrich also noticed this as well and the two walked over to see what was happening.

"What is going on here?" asked Ulrich. "What are you doing?"

"Something inside this box is not picking up, sir," replied one of the baggage screeners, as the box opened. "Well, I guess this is why."

The baggage handler unwisely picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide along with several containers of Metamucil and Tang drink mixes along with batteries, disposable cameras and several cell phones that were supposedly stolen. Both Ulrich and Mr. Barkin had the thought that this box contained materials that were to be used for something in the days ahead. There was no doubt that this box was bound for the terrorists in question.

"Where did this box come from?" asked Mr. Barkin to the security screener. "Is a passenger accompanying it?"

"We don't believe so," replied the female baggage handler. "It says that it is supposedly part of the mail hold on a flight coming in from Islamabad."

"Then hold it," ordered Ulrich. "I want this package screened and turned over to the authorities."

It was at this point to Mr. Barkin that Ulrich was making a mistake. To Mr. Barkin, Ulrich should have turned the package over to him and that we would be the ones that would inspect it and confirm that it was indeed bound for the terrorists.

"Just a minute there, Ulrich," said Mr. Barkin, pulling Ulrich back for a minute. "That box is coming with me."

"I don't want to be rude, Mr. Barkin," he advised. "But, this box might belong to a passenger and we must screen it ourselves. We are simply following British Airways screening policies."

"You will have to make this an exception, Ulrich," replied Mr. Barkin as several Global Justice officers came in to confiscate the box away from the two baggage screeners. "This box is now property of Global Justice and will be held as evidence."

Ulrich wanted to protest that Mr. Barkin was not letting him and his people following British Airways' baggage policies. However, out of respect, decided to let him take the box and have us inspect it.

"Realize that you know what we are doing, Ulrich," said Mr. Barkin. "I know that you don't want another Pan Am 103 on your hands, do you?"

Ulrich said nothing, but nodded his head in approval of Mr. Barkin taking the box away. The thought of another airliner bombing happening on his watch was something that he didn't want to think about. 270 people died and he wasn't going to let another one happen again.

A little while later, Mr. Barkin and his team returned to the Crowne Plaza St. James and the box was placed on the table of our meeting hall along with the USB drive containing the 18 flights that were targeted.

"Do you see what is at stake here?" asked Mr. Jones, showcasing the instruments of death that shimmered before us. "These items put together are agents of death that the terrorists intend to use to murder on an almost unprecedented scale."

Mr. Jones then proceeded to take all the items out of the box and place them on the table next to the USB drive. Once the items were removed, the box was taken off the table and all we could see were these ordinary items that if put together, would become a bomb capable of destroying an aircraft along with all its passengers and crew.

"This is what we are after now," said Mr. Jones, firmly as he slowly paced back and forth. "It is very likely that these kinds of items will be sought after by these men and their allies. Furthermore, we must also advise establishments that sell these items to discontinue them."

"How do we do it?" asked a fellow agent. "What do we say to them?"

"We tell them to just say that they are no longer selling the items," answered Mr. Jones. "True, others that are not terrorists will most likely want to purchase them. However, in the end, the general public will all be thanking us for protecting them from these mass murderers by temporarily discontinuing these items. You watch and see."

So, we did as we were told and soon, stores across London had made announcements that items such as drink mixes, cameras, phones, etc. were temporarily discounted. True, many citizens of London were upset about it, but it was for their own safety.

Now, it was on to the next plan of getting up close and personal with the terrorists and that was where I came in once again…


	16. Interview with a Terrorist

Chapter 16

"Interview with a Terrorist"

Over the next few weeks, we could only hope and pray that the tactics we had imposed on the terrorists would cause them to start to realize that their plan of death would not come to fruition. As the month of August moved around, we began to realize that we might have gotten a little bit of an edge. The terrorists seemed to have given up on buying any of the ingredients that they would need to carry out their message of death.

"Well, their activity has gone down a little bit," remarked Ron after we returned from another day of surveillance. "Do you think that they might give up?"

"Knowing the terrorists," I replied. "I highly doubt that they would just give up so easily. But, part of me wanted to feel a sense of sympathy for them. How much do you think we should sacrifice in order to achieve the goal of protecting our own?"

"That is not our decision to make Kim," sighed Ron, as he put away his sport coat in the hotel closet. "As long as we are threatened by murderous people like the ones who flew two planes into the World Trade Center, one plane into the Pentagon and one plane into a field in Pennsylvania, then we are not going to stop."

It was then that I had to make Ron see sense. From the way he was talking, he thought all people from war torn countries in the Middle East were evil. However, I knew he had a good reason for it, given the fact that he was Jewish. Still, I know Ron and he had a human side to him. I was deciding at that point to find a way and make him see sense, something that I could show him that there are people from that part of the world that we must sympathize with.

At that moment, the phone rang and I walked over to answer it. It was very surprising to hear the phone ringing at this time of the night. Most everybody would want to be asleep at this time, but this is Global Justice and crime fighting never takes a rest.

"Hello?" I answered into the phone and a gruff voice was heard on the other line, giving me confirmation that it was Mr. Barkin on the other line.

"Possible," I heard him say. "We have someone that says he is with the terror cell and is willing to talk to us. Can you come down and speak with him?"

"Of course, Mr. Barkin," I replied, sheepishly, sitting down on the side of the bed. "I'll be right down. Did you check him for weapons or something?"

"We did and he is clean," answered Mr. Barkin. "He wants to speak to you and you alone, Possible. Might as well do it now before it is too late."

"Tell him I will be down in 15 minutes," I replied. "Just give me time to get changed and such, Mr. Barkin."

So, I hung up the phone with the advantage that had been given to me. Heading into the bathroom, I changed out of my comfortable clothes and quickly changed into my short blue dress that I wore at graduation, while also reapplying my makeup as well as putting my hair into a ponytail.

"I guess we might have a break in the case, Ron," I said as I slid on my tan stockings. "Someone from the cell is giving himself up."

"Since when is that an option, KP?" he remarked. "He might be up to no good, like most of these terrorists are."

"He is willing to talk," I replied as I slid on my blue high heels and grabbed my black overcoat. "Perhaps maybe now is a chance to get some information that would lead to the capture of these guys."

After a brief kiss from Ron, I made my way down to the lobby where Mr. Barkin and the man was waiting. Stepping off of the elevator, I approached the man and my first impression of him was that he was harmless in personality. This came as a brief surprise to me as he was part of a terror cell. However, I had to remain hopeful that he was not a threat.

"Are you Kim Possible?" he asked, nervously as he approached me. "I have something that is important to say to you and you alone."

"I suggest that you find someplace private, Possible," advised Mr. Barkin. "Perhaps head to somewhere around here that is quiet to say the least."

"There is a place," suggested the man as he walked towards the rotating doors. "A place where I can talk to you in private."

So, I followed the man as we walked under a cool midsummer night sky that blanketed London. Eventually, we ended up in front of Westminster Cathedral, one of the most famous Catholic churches in the city. I found it to be quite strange that he would choose this place to talk, given the fact that most people like him would be at mosque, praying to Mohammed not to Jesus.

Still, he had a good reason and I followed him, with the tapping sounds of my blue high heels piercing the silence of the night. Entering the church, we walked in and sat down at the pews right in front of the altar.

"I wanted to have Jesus be a witness to what I am about to tell you," began the man. "You don't mind us being here, Agent Possible?"

"Not at all," I replied, giving the man my undivided attention. "If you have anything to say to me, by all means, say it."

The man closed his eyes and took in a deep sigh of relief, knowing that anything he would say to me would put him at risk to the people that he was betraying. It was then that a thought crossed through my mind: he was trying to be like Judas Iscariot, the apostle who betrayed Jesus that led to his passion.

"Very well," he explained in a hushed voice. "I was a member of the terror cell that is planning an attack against your country. What my fellow brothers are doing is far beyond the horrors that were inflicted against you five years ago, Agent Possible. Tell me, have you ever betrayed anyone?"

"I have betrayed people a couple of times," I replied. "Some have forgiven me and other have not. There were even those who betrayed me and I still carry the scars of those events."

"Well, I feel that we have seen enough blood flown to last us a century," said the man. "I lost my family in the first days of the war in Afghanistan. I didn't ask for this, none of us did. But, I thought that if I joined forces with my comrades, we could extract our revenge for the deaths of our families."

At this point, the revelation that this young man was originally a freedom fighter now deciding to live on a Catholic lifestyle was still very baffling to me. There had to be a reason for why he chose to switch sides, let alone abandon his faith for another one.

"Then," he continued, turning his attention away from me and up to the altar. "One day, as I was going out to carry out my bloody deeds near Kabul, I was thrown to the ground and a voice cried out of the heavens, 'Saul, Saul, why do you persecute my people?' I couldn't make out what he meant, but he was talking to me like a tormented soul when I was an enemy of his people. And for another matter, he was calling me Saul."

"Like when Jesus was asking Saul of Tsarsus the same question," I remarked. "He became a Catholic after that and changed his name to Paul."

"Exactly," he replied, turning back to me. "But, I couldn't tell my fellow brothers, for they kill traitors as forcefully as our enemies. When I arrived here in London, I was secretly baptized by a Catholic Priest at St. Paul Cathedral before I came to you, Agent Possible. Jesus told me that I could not let my brothers carry out their plans of death and talking to you was the first step."

"So, if you are going to tell me where the terrorists are and what they are planning to do," I said, walking up to him. "Then tell me now."

The man took in another sigh of relief and did a sign of the cross before directing all of his attention back to me. Whatever he would say for the next few minutes would prove vital to our surveillance and set in motion the change of events that would change air travel forever.

"All right," he sighed. "We are scattered among parts of London to avoid unwanted attention, Agent Possible. Furthermore, there are nine more of us in Manchester, just to the north of here. I will personally lead you all to my fellow brothers if I am granted protection from their wrath."

"Very well, then," I said, while also being very cautious. "You shall receive protection from us, but if we find that you are misleading us…"

"I am not, Agent Possible," he interrupted, trying to justify his actions and loyalty. "I swear on my life that I am not lying to you in any way. My days of spreading bloodshed are over. Now, I want to help others, not harm them."

For the next hour, we would continue to have our conversation in the presence of Jesus Christ and his father, the Lord God almighty. As time went on, I came to believe that this man, whoever his name was, was indeed going to play the role of Judas Iscariot to his comrades.

But this wasn't a biblical story in any way. He wasn't doing this for money like Judas did, but he was doing it to help us in saving thousands and thousands of innocent lives…


	17. A New Ally?

Chapter 17

"A New Ally?"

Just who exactly is the guy that I was talking to? Was he really betraying the cell by talking to us or was it all a lie and part of a plan to expose us as spies? Those were the questions going through my mind as I accompanied him from Westminster Catholic Church back to the Crowne Plaza St. James. For the time being however, I chose to hide my suspicions and allow myself to play along with his testimonies. Who knows? Maybe he was telling the truth about his intentions. After all, we were just in a church under the supervision of Jesus and his apostles.

"Mr. Barkin placed him in a room with extra guard," I said to Ron as I changed back into my comfortable clothes. "Which I am not surprised since he is betraying a group that he is a part of. However, I guess it is the only way to tell you that there are people from this part of the world that we can sympathize."

"I can see what you are talking about, KP," replied Ron, yawning for a chance to get to sleep. "Still, we can't trust him until otherwise noted. Right, Rufus?"

Ron turned over to Rufus and the naked mole rat agreed with him on this note. Being my boyfriend, Ron was dedicated to being the protective type in our relationship. After all, he was the one who protected me from becoming a trophy of the Lowardians at the right moment.

"Well, he seemed to be open and honest with me," I remarked as I emerged from the bathroom wearing my comfortable clothes and walking over to the bed. "He was telling me that Jesus came to him and told him that killing others is not what he was born to do, so Jesus blinded him and afterwards, he converted to Christianity and left the terror cell."

"As they always say," advised Ron. "It's always better to show rather than tell."

With those words, Ron turned off the bedside light and we went to sleep. He did prove a valid point about showing rather than telling. In fact, when we downstairs the next morning for our meeting, I could imagine if there would be time that Ron was indeed telling me the truth about the man. I wish that his comrades were wishing the same way, but they are not, so to hell with them.

"So, we have a possible deserter," said Mr. Jones, at the meeting the next morning. "We cannot be sure if he is playing us for fools or not, so we must watch him at all times. Agent Possible, you questioned the man last night, did you not?"

"I did, Mr. Jones," I replied, standing up to speak. "He was very open and honest with me as we spoke in the church. He claims to have converted to Christianity upon arrival into the United Kingdom."

"Indeed," remarked Mr. Jones. "In any case, the man is considered a suspect in this matter. We must continue questioning him for more information. However, was there any information, Agent Possible, that he told you that might prove useful in our investigation?"

As Mr. Jones spoke, I looked around and everyone was waiting to hear what I had to say. I knew that whatever words I spoke next would be used to speed up our eventual capture of the suspects.

"He told me," I said, nervously clutching the red pendant around my neck. "That there are two terror cells that are planning this attack: one in Manchester and one here in London."

"Which is where those intending to bomb the British Airways flights were supposedly located," added Mr. Barkin. "They must be doing that to either avoid attention or smuggle weapons through Manchester Airport's security system, since they have recently failed several inspections."

Having just learned of this information, my thoughts began to develop towards Charlotte Wonka, the young security agent at Heathrow Ron and I met a few weeks earlier. She seemed to have a deep knowledge of the security systems at Britain's two major airports and there was some thought that maybe she knows more than meets the eye.

"If you don't mind my cutting in," I said, once again rising to my feet. "Ron and I interviewed Charlotte Wonka a few weeks ago at Heathrow. She is the younger sister of Agent Willy Wonka III."

"I know who he is, Agent Possible," retorted Mr. Jones, bitterly at the fact I was trying to talk him down. "Agent Wonka's business doesn't concern you and he has his own part of this investigation to follow."

"All we want to do is have her help us," I said, pounding my hands on the table, causing several people to jump. "Forget her brother, she might know more about the security measures than you think. In fact, she was the only one who was willing to talk to us. Everyone else refused to talk. Why don't you let us do that?"

Mr. Jones merely gave me a stern glare as I sat down, knowing that Charlotte could help us and that was all there was to it. Looking over to the other end of the table, I saw Mr. Barkin deep in thought about something, almost as if he was agreeing with me on allowing Charlotte to help us.

"Because she is not a member of Global Justice, Agent Possible," explained Mr. Jones. "Just because that her brother is a member, does not give her the authority to help us capture the criminals. However, since you say that she is helpful and knowledgeable about airport security, she can help us in building the measures necessary in regards to the impending ban on liquids."

A few people began talking amongst themselves about possible bans on liquids from being carried onto airplanes. It was only after Mr. Jones sat down and clinked his glass of water did silence fall upon us once again.

"But, that assignment will be given to Mr. Barkin along with Agents Possible and Stoppable," continued Mr. Jones, wanting to focus now on the task at hand. "Until then, we must focus on intensifying the location of the suspects. What we need to do is split into two groups, with one group going to Manchester and one group staying here in London. According to reports, the talk amongst them is that they are planning to attack within the next week."

At that moment, everything that was going through my mind about having Charlotte help us went out the window and in my mind, I could hear the clock ticking louder and louder along with the spirits of those that I had started hearing in Spain.

"Agent Possible," he said to me and Ron. "I need you to head the arrests here in London and Agent Stoppable will head the arrests in Manchester. To protect you both, I have assigned two agents of Israel's MOSAD agency to accompany you both. I will also notify London and Manchester's police departments for support."

The date was now August 8th and in just 48 hours, our lives and careers at Global Justice would be put to the ultimate test…


	18. Before the Raids Start

Chapter 18

"Before the Raids Start"

August 8th, 2006 began as unlike any other day and the decision had been made that the time had come for us to make our move on the terrorists and stop their plan of action. However, the plan was for me to lead one group here in London and Ron to lead one group in Manchester. It was not very easy separating, since the events of Graduation were stills very much fresh in our minds. But, Ron had gained so much confidence from that time that it was impossible to even fret about it.

Still, as we prepared to carry out these raids, we were both scared of what was about to take place. Could this be the one where we final meet our maker? Could this be the one where one of us doesn't make it out of this alive? All these questions flowed through our minds and it showed.

"Stoppable," called Mr. Barkin as Ron walked in from reviewing the security tapes that we had obtained at Heathrow. "I, uh, can't help but wonder if maybe you and Possible have some alone time tonight before we carry out the raids."

"But, Mr. B," remarked Ron, scratching the back of his neck. "Are you sure about that? I mean, we could leave at any time and Kim and I could be out and about."

"Look, Stoppable," said Mr. Barkin, wisely as he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You have not had time together since Graduation and you are about to enter the transition from teenagers to adults. There is no better time than now to do so. Get yourselves dressed up, go out for a dressy dinner and then take in a show. Unwind yourselves, Stoppable of all the stress that has plagued you both."

Ron was not very sure of what to say next, however, Mr. Barkin was very insistent on Ron and I spending some time together. In fact, I was feeling the same way when we returned to our room that night.

"Kim, I was just wondering," he said, looking back over to me as I let my hair loose from its ponytail. "Mr. Barkin suggested that we had been working so hard in spying on these guys that we haven't had any time for ourselves."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting on the bed. "Is he suggesting that we go out for dinner or something?"

"Well, yes," replied Ron, worriedly, scratching the back of his neck. "He understands what we have both been going through and feels as if we should at least unwind. That is, if you are up for it?"

Now, being Ron's girlfriend, I wasn't going to say no. Sure, Ron and I have been on dates before, but the last one we have truly been on was that fateful night in Middleton Park where Josh Mankey almost took all of our happiness away from us. And ever since then, our dates were either casual or anything dressy was interrupted by a call to duty.

"Sure, I could use the break," I replied, finally submitting myself to Ron's request. "There is a play that I have been meaning to see, uh, _Les Miserables_?"

"It's a deal," smiled Ron, as he walked over and we kissed each other passionately, looking forward to a night where we wouldn't have to worry about anything.

The next evening, Ron and I each got our dress clothes that we were planning to wear dry cleaned by the hotel. It wasn't exactly Prom night, but it was close enough. Ron had on his black tuxedo and red bow tie while I had on my sleeveless navy blue dress, tan stockings and black dress sandals.

True, we wore these clothes to Ron's cousin's wedding last year, but they held special meaning to us. They represented our youth and love for one another and my blue dress was Ron's personal favorite of mine.

"Sure nice of Mr. Barkin to give us the night off," I said as we dined into Beef Wellingtons at Claridge's. "We sure needed some time to ourselves to at least think of what happens now. I mean, for our last great mission with Global Justice, it hasn't been all fighting and such."

"Perhaps it is a sign of things to come, KP," suggested Ron. "I mean, it's as Mr. Barkin said just before we graduated, it's the end of one chapter and the closing of another. You are going to be enrolled in one of the two greatest schools in the entire country. You should be happy about that?"

"I know I should, Ron," I sighed. "But, this all seems so, so final. Do you realize how much we both have done for Global Justice in all the years we have been together? A lot and I wish there was a way we could stay with Global Justice without going on missions."

Ron also thought of this as well, for he never even thought about it and neither did I. There were more to Global Justice than just going on missions and perhaps, we could stay with the organization without retiring from it. Perhaps Dr. Director had an option for us after all is said and done.

"Well, it could help you with pursuing your doctorate in Global Studies, KP," remarked Ron. "Isn't that what you are going to be doing from here on in? Trying to become a doctor in that field?"

"Yes, because that is what I want to do, Ron," I replied as I finished the Beef Wellington. "I want to become a doctor and make great contributions to world studies. However, there may be times where I have to be Indiana Jones or something."

"In what way is that?" asked Ron, taking a sip of water. "Is it because he has a doctorate?"

"Exactly," I answered as the waiter came with our bill. "But, he only goes on dangerous missions unless if he has to do it. That's what I need to be, Ron. I'm going to retire from crime fighting, but not from the organization that I have come to know and love as much as you do."

With those words, we paid the hefty and expensive bill and left Claridge's to make our way over to the Queen's Theatre for the nightly performance of _Les Miserables_. It was enthralling to be absorbed into the story of the French Revolution and the life of a prisoner who was hounded by a ruthless French policeman. For once, it was a perfect night to dress in our best and enjoy ourselves. Best of all, Mr. Barkin was not watching us like he used to on our previous few dates and that there was no rainy nights in Middleton Park or psychotic ex-boyfriends to worry about.

Sadly though, all good things must come to an end and soon, the raids that would change the world of commercial flying upside down forever…


	19. Raids of England, Part 1

Chapter 19

"Raids in England, Part 1"

As much as we wanted to continue indulging in our free night out as boyfriend and girlfriend, the day finally came, Wednesday August 9th, 2006, when we were to finally break into the terror cell and stop the terrorists once and for all after over a month of intense surveillance. As we had all agreed, Ron would lead one group to Manchester while I stayed to lead another group in London. Sure enough, already I could tell that this was not going to be an easy mission to handle.

"Nervous?" asked Ron, who was covered in heavy SWAT armor as he walked over to me while we all prepared ourselves in a garage just down the street from the Crowne Plaza St. James. "Don't worry, I'm nervous as well. Part of me wants to stay and help you, but we have our orders."

"I know we do," I replied, sighing nervously as I was looking down at the rifle that I would be carrying in the raid. "If this is the final mission, then it's setting up to look like one. In fact, I've decided to wear my short blue dress and my graduation gown underneath all this armor. Just to remember what is to come, I guess."

"You aren't wearing those blue high heels, also?" advised Ron, looking down at the blue high heels that matched my dress. Hey, I wore tan stockings and high heels fighting the Lowardians and I was certainly going to wear them hunting down these terrorists. "All right, I guess you made up your mind then."

Just then, Mr. Jones and Mr. Barkin came into the garage with two heavyset men following right behind them. I could tell as could Ron that these were the two MOSAD agents that were going to help us in the raids.

"Before you all move out," barked Mr. Barkin. "I would like to introduce you to a couple friends of ours. This is Yanni and this is Yoshi, they have just flown in from Israel to aide us in capturing the terror cells. Listen to them and they will listen to you. Possible, Yanni will oversee your group and Stoppbale, Yoshi will oversee your group."

So, the two agents walked over and joined our respective groups as I gulped nervously once again, not at the Israeli agent assigned to me, but more of my safety as well as Ron's.

"Remember," advised Mr. Jones, stepping forward to have his say. "These terrorists will doing anything and everything to protect what they are planning to do. If they attempt to fight back with fire, then by God, fight back with fire. You are to recover any evidence that might prove valuable in a court of law such as bomb components, computer drives and anything else."

Then, Mr. Jones turned his attention over to me as if that there was a part of this mission that was going to be a matter of life and death.

"However, Agent Possible," he said, showing me a picture of the men that he wanted captured as much as the rest. "These are the three men that you personally will seek out. Furthermore, to identify these men, the man who turned himself to us will help you capture them."

I turned around to see the man from a few nights before walk over towards me, wearing nothing but a bulletproof vest and brandishing a pistol in his right hand. He look much more relaxed than a few nights ago and had a look on his face that meant he was going to enjoy betraying his fellow man.

"I am honored to aide you in your mission, Agent Possible," he said, bowing down to me like I was a queen. "Let me assure you that I will do everything in my power to help you succeed in the name of Christ."

"Yes," I replied awkwardly as he grabbed my hand and kissed it, much to my embarrassment as well as Ron's. "I know you will."

Soon, the whistle blew and Ron led his group into several white vans, including one of two borrowed SWAT vans for this mission. Ron managed to give me one blow of a kiss as the SWAT van closed and the entourage bound for Manchester departed the garage headed north out of London. With Ron gone, we finished with our preparations and unlike Ron's group, we had to wait until sundown before we could move in.

"God," I said, looking up towards the openly clear night sky. "I ask you to protect us all as we embark on this dangerous mission to protect our fellow man from terror and harm."

Doing a sign of the cross, the whistle sounded and we boarded the SWAT van to begin our raids. Leaving the Garage, I quickly put my game face on as we quietly drove into the night advancing towards a corner house in the London suburb of Bloomsbury.

"All right," I whispered to the traitor, Yanni and the rest of the team inside. "The lights are off and nobody looks to be awake. All right, we move in swiftly and make the captures. Half of you will come with me to make the arrests and the other half will search the rooms and collect evidence. Clear?"

Lowering our visors and turning on our flashlights, we quietly opened the doors to the van and swiftly took up positions around the house. This was likely the place where our three suspects were hiding along with the rest of their comrades. Of course, I was wearing high heels, but many women wear high heels in this neighborhood, so it didn't really matter.

"Ready?" I asked, cocking my rifle and motioning for the battering ram to be brought forth. "On the count of three, we move in."

Just then, we saw a man dressed in Arab garb walk out of the house with a rifle in his possession. This caused the man I had questioned to step out of the shadows and hold the attack.

"Wait!" he whispered, pointing his hand out at me. "Let me try and talk to him. He will understand that I have come to beg forgiveness."

"Absolutely not!" I ordered, giving him a hard stare. "If they know you are a traitor…"

"They won't," he interrupted. "Trust me. They will listen."

Much to my chagrin, I allowed the man to enter and approach the guard, who immediately pointed his weapon at the man.

"So, you have decided to return, Abis?" he cried in Arabic. "If brother Abdullah finds out…"

"I've come to beg forgiveness," he replied in equal Arabic. "Please let me in and we will discuss this like true men."

The guard rolled his eyes and opened the door as he motioned for us to advance towards the door. Pointing a finger, I motioned for one of our team members to cut the power to the house and sure enough, the power went out and we swiftly moved in.

"What's going on?" cried the guard in Arabic as we charged up the stairs and started the raid, with two members of our team subduing the guard while also pushing Abis into the house.

"POLICE! GLOBAL JUSTICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" we shouted as several men came downstairs holding their hands. "UP AGAINST THE WALL! UP AGAINST THE WALL!"

While most would comply, I began to notice that one of the men upstairs had his gun pointed right at me and it wasn't until the shout of a team member did I notice the rifle that was pointed right at me.

"GET DOWN!" I shouted as I quickly got down and began to give chase, holding the shield against the bullets coming from the rifle. Several bullets had pierced the top of my shield, but I kept on fighting. "SEARCH THE ROOMS AND CAPTURE ANYONE WHO IS A SUSPECT!"

The suspect then stopped firing and punched me in the face, knocking me down the flight of stairs to the ground below. I knew that the fight was on and I was going up against the leader as he picked me up and threw me against a wall, clutching my throat tightly to the point of him almost choking me.

"I knew that someone was spying on us a few weeks ago," he said, as I managed to kick him back in the stomach with my left high heel. "You are mine, Kim Possible!"

Now, the battle that would end my crime fighting career at Global Justice was about to begin…


	20. Raids of England, Part 2

Chapter 20

"Raids in England, Part 2"

With the suspect charging right at me, all I could do was attempt to defend myself using my rifle, but I knew that using it now was an enormous risk. All I could do was use my martial arts and my instincts, knowing that my greatest battle was here and now. Everything that I had been ever taught was about to be used in this battle.

"I will teach you and your agency brethren to spy on me, Kim Possible!" snarled the suspect as he grabbed a knife out of his boot and pushed me back against a wall attempted to slit my throat with it. However, I managed to duck the knife and managed to grab a vase on a side table and bashed it against his head, causing him to bleed from the forehead. Unfortunately, it only made him angrier and more determined to finish me off once and for all.

"You are going to have to do better than that," I retorted, pulling a pistol from my holster and pointing it right back at him. "I expected you to surrender without a fight, but you may leave me with no other choice, Abdullah!"

"I beg to differ," he chuckled, not caring for the consequences that he was causing. "You see, Sheik Osama warned you many times to leave our lands and now the time has come for you to be destroyed."

Finally, Abduallah managed to push me against the wall again and pull off my helmet before pulling my hair tie off and roughing my hair into a tangled mess. I could tell he was trying to humiliate me, by the way he was trying to stick his hand under my armor. I wasn't having any of it and I punched him in the jaw, causing some of his teeth to fall out.

"Ahh, you bitch!" he yelled in pain. "I will teach you until you learn your lesson!"

He still had some power left in the tank and I knew that if I was going to defend myself, I would have to get rid of this armor. Unhitching the armor covering my chest, I was now standing before him wearing a bulletproof over my graduation gown and short blue dress, with the pistol still in my hand.

"Agent Possible!" cried Abis, as he charged onto the scene. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching this monster some manners is what I'm doing," I retorted as I jumped onto the man and attempted to subdue him, but he wasn't done, not by a long shot. I could tell that he had his lust onto me, but I wasn't going to give in. Not this time and not now. I wasn't going to be a delicate flower that gets trampled anymore, I'm Kim Possible and protecting the world was what I do.

"You are the monster, Kim Possible," growled Abdullah, shaking off the pain of losing some of his teeth. "You are all monsters for murdering our women and children. Now, I will kill you and drag your naked body through the streets of my homeland!"

Abdullah charged waving his knife around like a madman and using the spikes of my high heels, I managed to kick Abdullah in the stomach sending him back against a wall. But it didn't stop him, and he pushed me back onto the ground, trying to do whatever he could to subdue me and make me succumb to the fear of these terrorists. Abdullah placed his cold dead hands on my throat and managed to tear the blue pendant off of my neck, sending it flying into the air.

"I will teach you to fear me, Kim Possible," snarled the suspect, evilly as he stuck his knife into my bulletproof vest, tearing it right down the middle and roughly pulling it off, leaving me unprotected. "Before this night is over, you and all who harm our people will learn the true nature of fear."

After having subdued me, Abdullah then proceeded to stick his hand to the top of my graduation gown and pulled down hard on the zipper, before proceeding to try and cut open my short blue dress, while my hands tried to pus.

Now, I was beginning to relive the nightmares I had experienced with the Lowardians and with Josh and honestly, for a moment, I felt like this was the end of everything that I lived for. Tears began to form at the corners of my eyes and I could tell that he was going to remove my graduation gown, then he would tear off my dress right down the middle, pull off my high heels and then my stockings before ripping off my bra and then my panties.

"God," I thought as tears were beginning to fall down the corners of my eyes. "Don't let it end like this, please I am begging you!"

Before he could succeed at ripping my dress, Abdullah felt a sharp tug and yelled loudly as Abis picked him and threw him against a wall, breaking his arm.

"You'll pay for that, traitor!" growled Abdullah, as he struggled to his feet, and grabbing his knife off of the floor, pointing it right at him. "ALLAH AKUBAR!"

Then, suddenly, just as Abduallah moved in for the kill, several SWAT officers came in and pushed the suspect against the wall as I struggled to my feet and put the picture of the suspect to Abis' face to see if he could match with the individual that was being held.

"That's him," said Abis. "That is Abdullah Ali, leader of the London cell of Sheikh Osama's army."

"At least the worst part's over," I sighed as I picked up my discarded SWAT armor from the floor, along with my torn blue pendant and my torn bulletproof vest.

Abdullah growled as he was led away along with several other people, while I could only watch with a little bit of satisfaction. Still, there was the matter of Abis, who had saved me from a fate worse than death.

"Are you all right, Agent Possible?" he asked.

"I am thanks to you," I replied, zipping my graduation gown back up. "Aside from a few cuts and bruises, to say the least."

"I couldn't risk you being harmed like that," remarked Abis. "It was acts like that that made want to follow Jesus and I hope to one day convince others to do the same. God will not allow his people to be harmed in such a manner."

I knew that Abis was in line for a reward for his actions, but when and how he would be rewarded would be decided over time.

Meanwhile, over the next few hours, we raided several more houses in and around London, capturing 12 suspects while Ron and his group captured another 12 in and around Manchester. So much evidence was recovered and believe me, it was enough to put these people away for a long time.

But, there was little time to recover from the raids in question. Before the sun would rise, airport security would be changed forever…


	21. Breach of Discipline

Chapter 21

"Breach of Discipline"

The morning of August 10th, 2006 dawned on England with the sudden news that passengers were no longer allowed to carry liquids in carry-on bags. What followed at Heathrow, Gatwick and soon, airports around the rest of the world was nothing more than underlining chaos and confusion for anyone trying to get on a commercial airliner. Many passengers were angry, some were understanding, but it was all efforts to protect everyone from terrorists like Abdullah Ali and his gang of terrorists.

However, the first raid in Bloomsbury was still very fresh on my mind. But, it wasn't because of the fact that we made the raid to begin with, it was during my battle with Abdullah that was heavily on my mind. As I got dressed and headed downstairs, I couldn't help but wonder of the consequences that I would have to face for putting myself in danger. I knew that I was going to be in trouble with Mr. Jones for discarding my protection, but I faced being in trouble before and I thought this was nothing more than an ordinary meeting.

"Possible," said Mr. Barkin, peeking his head outside of the meeting hall and motioning for me to come in. "Can you come in here for a minute?"

I knew that Ron was still conducting raids in Manchester and he probably wouldn't be back for another few hours, so I was left to face this alone. Stepping into the meeting room, I saw that there was nobody else in here except for Mr. Barkin and Mr. Jones. They had a seat that was right next to Mr. Jones that I guess was supposed to be for me. So, I walked over and sat down while they looked at me with looks of authority on their faces.

"I can guess why you want to speak with me," I said nervously. "It is because of the fact that I…"

But, Mr. Jones raised his hand at my face and silenced me from saying another word. Almost as if he knew what I was going to say before he had a chance to say it.

"Agent Possible," he said, understandingly but firmly. "We had been told that you discarded your armor when confronting a dangerous suspect like Abdullah Ali. May we ask why you would do such a thing?"

"I can explain, Mr. Jones," I replied, trying to find the words to answer him. "My armor was slowing me down and well, I couldn't fight back against him in it."

"Possible, there is a very good reason that you would all wear SWAT armor," added Mr. Barkin, his voice filled with a little bit of anger. "You were dealing with extremely dangerous people and when you are confronted, you are to neutralize them with your rifles. Clearly, you did not do that and had it not been for the intervention of the suspect who switched to our side, you would have been dead by now."

I knew for a fact that Mr. Barkin was right. If I had not been the foolish girl I was to not remove my armor, then I wouldn't have been in the situation that I was in.

"Furthermore," added Mr. Jones. "By confronting a dangerous suspect alone, you put yourself and the entire operation at risk. These terrorists are known to use suicide bombs to avoid being captured by the law."

"They weren't going to do that," I protested, trying to at least explain my reasons. "Many of the agents had managed to confront the suspects and obtain their weapons before any such act was carried out."

Both men sighed at my remarks, knowing that what I had done was wrong. True, I had put myself and the entire operation at risk. But, I couldn't erase what had happened at the Bloomsbury house. What is done is done.

"Look, Agent Possible," sighed Mr. Jones, his voiced filled with exasperation. "All we are trying to say to you is that we cannot believe that you would put yourself at risk like that. I know you want to retire on a high note, but we want you to be smart in your actions and retire alive and well."

"Well, you don't know what Abdullah tried to do to me," I retorted, rising to my feet. "Maybe what I did was stupid, but he recognized me from spying on him at Claridge's a few months back. Do you realize what he was going to do to me if Abis had not intervened? He tried to undress me in an effort to make me fear him! I didn't ask for it, Mr. Jones!"

"You brought this on yourself, Agent Possible," snapped Mr. Jones, giving me a hard stare. "You wanted to retire on a high note and by God, we gave you the chance. So don't come to me and lecture me on what could have happened had you not disobeyed orders!"

Part of me wanted to break down and cry at that moment, but I wasn't going to do it in front of my superior. Again, I had broken the rules by discarding my SWAT armor, but it didn't matter. Thousands of lives were saved by our actions and that was all there was to it. An awkward and tense silence filled the room for a few moments before Mr. Barkin broke it.

"Look, Possible," sighed Mr. Barkin. "After the events with Mankey, I can understand what you are going through. I was there when he tried to kill you and maybe I should have accompanied you on this mission. In fact, I wanted to take part in it, but Mr. Jones overruled me and said that this was your fight, not mine."

Mr. Jones just sat there and was filled with speechlessness over Mr. Barkin's remarks. He couldn't believe that someone was able to throw him under the bus like that. Still, this brought up a good point on the decisions that Mr. Jones had brought up. Perhaps maybe Mr. Barkin would have been a perfect fit to accompany me in the raid instead of that Israeli agent. After all, Mr. Barkin was a military veteran who served in the line of fire during that Vietnam War.

"Is this true?" I asked, my voice filled with shock. "If it is, then you have a lot to answer for, Mr. Jones."

Mr. Jones said nothing and rather, he wanted to just simply move on with enforcing the new security measures that were to be placed at airports around the world.

"Well? Tell me, I demand to know!" I snapped and Mr. Jones still said nothing. "I swear, if I find you had intentionally gave me no protection…."

"I did give you protection, Agent Possible," interrupted Mr. Jones. "But, you chose to not use the protection when the moment came to use it. So, shame on you!"

Exasperated, I got up and stormed out of the room without saying anything else, still believing that what I did in the raid was justified. Abdullah was not going to go down without a fight and I was going to give it to him, but it wasn't going to be wearing SWAT armor.

Still, there was also the matter of Mr. Barkin, a man who with a military background and who knew both I and Ron so well, being denied the chance to take part in a military style operation that he had experience in.

All these questions would be answered in due time as we moved ahead with the next phase of our mission, which was aiding airports in banning liquids from carry-on luggage…


	22. Ron Returns to London

Chapter 22

"Ron Returns to London"

My tense meeting with Mr. Jones and Mr. Barkin had left me completely rattled. It also made me question whether or not Mr. Jones was really the man fit for the job as the British head of Global Justice. How dare he questioned my actions in confronting Abdullah Ali when he realized that I was the one who was spying on him at Claridge's. Perhaps maybe I made a couple of really stupid mistakes, but I still stand by what I had done. Over 2,000 perhaps more lives had been saved and that was something to be grateful for.

Shortly after my meeting had ended, Ron returned from Manchester, still wearing his SWAT armor. I was relieved at the fact that he had returned safely and without any injuries at all.

"I'm so glad to see you," I said, warmly as we embraced. "How was the raids in Manchester?"

"They didn't stand a chance with us," announced Ron, clearly being filled with pride of his team's accomplishments. "Tried to fight back, but it was no use for the dream team, if I do say so myself. How did it go down here?"

"Well," I said, trying not to get all emotional. "Let's just say that things didn't go over well with the bosses."

This caused Ron to drop his high and mighty persona and focus on what was wrong with me. He was beginning to see that something happened and wanted to know what it was. He had seen me emotional before and knew very well that when I was emotional, Ron was the one to support me the most.

"Hey, you don't look so good, Kim," he remarked. "Is everything all right?"

"Not everything is all right," I replied as we headed over to a couple of empty seats across from the check in counter. "I need to tell you something very important."

Not wanting for anyone else to hear, especially Mr. Jones, I whispered into Ron's ear what I went through and lets just say, he didn't take it well.

"WHAT?!" he cried, almost leaping out of the seat. "HE TRIED TO DO WHAT?!"

"He tried to undress me, Ron," I confessed. "He was not going to do down without a fight and I was going to give to him. I couldn't move in my SWAT armor, so I removed it and confronted him right there on the spot. Had it not been for Abis, I would have…"

I couldn't finish my sentence as I started to become choked up once again. Like the past times I had been in this situation, Ron placed his hand around my shoulder and tried to console me along with Rufus.

"It doesn't matter now, Kim," he whispered. "All that matters is that you are safe. God knows what could have happened had Abis not intervened. What did he try and do to you?"

"He tore off my bulletproof vest," I replied. "He tried to open my graduation gown and then rip at my dress. I was scared, Ron, more scared than when Josh tried to kill me, more scared than when the Lowardians tried to take me as their prize."

At this point to Ron, the events in Manchester were of secondary concerns to him. He had very little problems with the terrorists in that end and he began to realize that maybe going there was such a bad idea.

"Doesn't Mr. Barkin or Mr. Jones know about this?" asked Ron.

"I tried to explain everything to Mr. Jones," I answered, burying my face into my hands. "But, he put the blame entirely on me, saying that it was my own fault. Only Mr. Barkin was willing to listen, saying that he should have gone with me, not one of the Israeli guys."

Ron understood and knew that he needed to get more information on this matter. After the events with Josh and the Lowardians during graduation, he had started to become more and more protective of me. So, after I had calmed down and went back to my room for some sleep, Ron went down to Mr. Jones' office to defend my actions.

"Is what Kim said true, Mr. Jones?" asked Ron, tapping his fingers on Mr. Jones' desk. "That what nearly happened to her was her own fault?"

"Why are you worrying about Agent Possible's actions, Agent Stoppable?" retorted Mr. Jones, taking off his glasses and giving Ron a "WTF" look on his face. "She did actions that are not part of the protocol of this organization. We don't tell people to discard their SWAT armor when…"

"Oh, damn the SWAT armor!" snapped Ron, bitterly and rolling his eyes. "Can't you see that Kim is traumatized by what has happened to her? We all wanted these men alive and Kim was clearly doing what you wanted her to do? Don't you see that?"

"Excuse me, Agent Stoppable?" remarked Mr. Jones, rising to his feet. "How dare you accuse me of something that I don't even have any involvement in? All I am saying is that everything that Agent Possible did was her fault and her fault alone!"

Ron merely paced around the room and struggled to find words to say to Mr. Jones. He could not believe that a man like him would do such a thing. After all, like us, Mr. Jones was employed by Dr. Director as head of Britain's Global Justice division.

"Like how you decided to send Israeli soldiers to help us," snapped Ron, exasperatedly. "Kim told me that you barred Mr. Barkin, a man with military experience, from accompanying Kim to a dangerous terrorist hideout."

"That is not any of your concern, Agent Stoppable," replied Mr. Jones, who was beginning to lose patience with Ron. "All that matters is a terrorist plot of epic proportions has been stopped and now, we must move on from all of this. Do I make myself clear?"

Ron just merely stood there and said nothing as he walked towards the door. Clearly, Mr. Jones was in the wrong and all that mattered was that the public was safe from harm, not us. Before leaving, Ron scowled as Mr. Jones sat at his desk with a blank stare, still with a justification that Kim was in the wrong and not him.

"I can't believe this guy," remarked Ron to Rufus as he walked from Mr. Jones' office. "He clearly doesn't want to hear the story of how Kim was nearly humiliated and killed! Well, we'll just have to play the game for now, Rufus. But, perhaps maybe Mr. Barkin can give us a more definitive side to the story."


	23. Ron Talks to Mr Barkin

Chapter 23

"Ron Talks to Mr. Barkin"

Shocked and dismayed by Mr. Jones' attitude towards him over my actions, Ron stormed after Mr. Barkin in the hopes of getting to the bottom of why he wasn't sent on my mission to capture the terror cell. After all, Mr. Barkin was a military veteran and he was there when Josh tried to kill me, so it was the logistical choice for me to have him for protection.

"Stoppable, I know what you are trying to say," said Mr. Barkin, as Ron sat in Mr. Barkin's makeshift office. "I wanted to be there for Possible and I couldn't because Mr. Jones thought I was too old. If I was too old, then I shouldn't have come here to London in the first place."

"Well, I don't think you look too old," remarked Ron. "He just didn't see it, that's all and he probably doesn't trust you. Don't you agree, Rufus?"

Rufus came out of his pocket and raced up to Ron's shoulder, nodding in agreement with him. In fact, seeing Ron talk to a Naked Mole Rat made Mr. Barkin, feel, how should I say it? Very confused and awkward to say the least.

"Uh, yes, what the mole rat said," stuttered Mr. Barkin, clearing his throat, before getting back to the task at hand. "But, the truth is, Stoppable. I wanted to come after the events with Mankey, but Mr. Jones said that I should be doing what I am doing and that is remaining here for personal reasons. Believe me that guy needs some help in terms of trust issues."

Mr. Barkin did prove a point to Ron that Mr. Jones clearly was very untrustworthy of him. Again, Mr. Jones was the head of Britain's branch of Global Justice and whose superior was Dr. Director, herself. However, the question was, would Dr. Director have allowed Mr. Jones to let Mr. Barkin provide me protection?

"I know he does, Stoppable," said Mr. Barkin. "If I had gone with Possible, then she wouldn't have been put in the danger she was in. Unless, of course, if Jones wanted the terrorists alive. You and I both know very well that these guys would kill themselves to avoid being captured by the law. Something tells me that Jones is very inflexible when it comes to tactics and procedures."

Now, again, this is another example of Jones' by the book mantra. He seemed to have had a set goal of taking the terrorists alive without any flexible methods. God knows who these people were and why they would just stick with one tactic.

"And knowing the experiences we have had, Mr. B," remarked Ron, sitting back in the chair. "Is that we have to always switch tactics that stops the terrorists. If Abdullah wanted to pick a fight with Kim, then by God, she would give it to him, no matter what."

"Which is why Possible was reprimanded for putting herself in danger," added Mr. Barkin. "By not following the procedure, which knowing both of you, Stoppable, is sometimes the only way. We have sometimes have to adapt quickly to new tactics and strategies, which is something that I have had to do frequently during my days in Vietnam."

Once again, Mr. Barkin brought up a very valid point to Ron. He never followed the same tactics that his superiors tasked him to do when he was a soldier in Vietnam. Could it be that maybe, just maybe, that Mr. Jones broke Global Justice policy by not allowing me to be flexible in fighting Abdullah without heavy SWAT armor? What was I supposed to do? Just be a sitting duck and let Abdullah overpower me so easily? I couldn't stand by and watch him and his associates kill so many people over a two day period. It wouldn't be right and would be a great deal of injustice to protecting the general public from monsters like Abdullah Ali.

"Well, either way from the looks of it," said Ron, taking a sip of his bottled water. "Mr. Jones is the one who should be blamed for what almost happened to Kim, not Kim herself. I'm going to have to let Dr. Director know of this and she will be the one to decide whether or not Mr. Jones needs to be removed from his position."

Just then, the doors opened and Ron walked up to open it to discover me on the other side, having decided to change out of my sleeveless blue dress and into a pair gray sweatpants and a red shirt. Of course, my eyes had been red from crying and my hair was a mess.

"Hey, Kim," said Ron concernedly. "How are you feeling?"

"Still a little upset," I replied, in a raggedy voice as I sat down next to Ron. "I still can't believe Mr. Jones would berate me like that when I was in a tense situation. If I hadn't intervened and fought Abdullah one on one, then who knows what he could have done?"

"All that matters is that Mr. Jones didn't learn to break out of protocol," said Ron. "And sooner or later, he's going to get a lesson in being flexible one way or another."

We all sat there for a moment thinking of how Mr. Jones is going to learn that. This was a man who seemed to be beyond reach in terms of changing his ways and procedures. These were people who were hell bent on murder and I could remember what happened in Madrid with the terrorists blowing themselves up before they could be taken prisoner. These procedures that Mr. Jones enforced was not working and he needed to realize that.

"I think we should let Dr. Director know about this," suggested Ron. "Then we can deal with the extra security measures with the Heathrow Airport security staff."

"Stoppable, you have a point," remarked Mr. Barkin, writing down on a piece of paper. "We are going to be doing a little training with the security staff on what can or cannot be brought onto an aircraft. That's what the three of us need to be doing right now. Trying to figure out ways to protect the general flying public. What Mr. Jones is forgetting is just that: trying to protect the public from harm that these terrorists produce. Sooner or later, he will learn the truth of what is really at stake."

"Futhermore," said Ron, knowing that having Dr. Director deal with Mr. Jones wasn't enough. "I think Mr. Jones owes you an apology, Kim. A really big apology."

So, we began the process of getting Dr. Director aware of Mr. Jones' methods while also preparing to come up with a proper procedure on how passengers should handle their liquids before coming onto a commercial airliner….


	24. List of Banned Liquids

Chapter 24

"List of Banned Liquids"

"Yes, Dr. Director," said Mr. Barkin into a telephone down in the hotel lobby. "Mr. Jones is partially responsible for what nearly happened to Agent Possible. I request that you meet with him face to face to discuss his actions towards her."

Almost immediately, Dr. Director agreed to Mr. Barkin's request to confront Mr. Jones over how he handled the situation. Ron and I listened in to whether Dr. Director would personally come over to London and carry out our request. Being that she knew us the better out of all the agents in Global Justice to begin with, she was very disturbed by this.

"Dr. Director is going to fly out tonight and discuss with Mr. Jones in the morning," said Mr. Barkin after the call concluded. "Until then, we need to start putting together a plan for the new measures concerning liquids."

"Well, wouldn't we have to after seeing all of these at Heathrow?" I remarked, throwing down a newspaper on Mr. Barkin's desk. "Trust me, I wouldn't want to be one of these passengers in these pictures."

The pictures showed passengers looking tired and frustrated of standing in the long lines at Heathrow along with tents being set up for passengers that had missed their flights as a result of the enforced measures.

"Well, it's better to have these pictures than the ones in the Atlantic showing airplane debris," advised Mr. Barkin, getting up and walking across the room for a moment. "What we are talking about here is a plan to start advising airline passengers that liquids that they possess cannot be brought through the security checkpoint. That includes soft drinks, shampoo, mouthwash, toothpaste, etc."

"Wait, wait," interrupted Ron. "Are you saying that I can't carry soda bottles through security, Mr. Barkin? What if I don't have enough money to buy another one?"

"Then that would be your own fault, Stoppable," remarked Mr. Barkin. "These days, we have to be vigilant with these terrorists and their desires. We cannot be lax against them and by enforcing these bans, we will take out an advantage that they so desire."

Ron sighed heavily at this and while I couldn't help but feel sympathetic for him, I knew that Mr. Barkin was right of doing the act of protecting passengers by enforcing this necessary sacrifice. Besides, why would I even bother bringing liquids through security anyway? Whenever I travel, I always place my makeup and toiletries in my checked luggage. But, some people would rather not check their bags in to avoid paying the dreaded baggage fee. That was the other part of the challenge that was facing us.

"Still, there is another matter," continued Mr. Barkin, sitting back down in his desk. "We to think of some way to encourage people who carry their luggage onto airplanes. Yes, I know and I am sure you know that they will protest on paying the baggage fee, but it will be worth it for them in the end."

"We can't force them to check their bags in," I advised. "Believe me, you never forced us to do anything when were at Middleton High."

"That's true, Possible," remarked Mr. Barkin. "Aside from extra homework for bad or stupid behavior courtesy of Stoppable mostly. However, we want the public to understand that this is for their own protection. Why else did I not help encourage congress to create the Transportation Security Administration?"

Now, of course, Mr. Barkin was a man of many trades, but to hearing him say that he helped form the TSA was entirely ludicrous. Either Mr. Barkin was born with a silver spoon in his mouth or he was full of garbage. There was another word to say to the sentence, but I figured since there might be kids' reading this, I kept my language to a PG rating or lower.

"I see," I said, taking it what Mr. Barkin was saying. "Now, we need to be slow about this. People need to take it upon themselves to understand the severity of what is happening these days. As Dr. Director said, we can't let a second 9/11 ever happen again, no matter how many times the terrorists will try to break our systems."

"So, what I have here," explained Mr. Barkin, pulling out a list of liquids that were barred from being placed in carry on luggage. "Is a list of liquids that are barred that cannot be brought on commercial airliners ever again."

Looking at the list, Ron and I saw what was being proposed on being banned from flying in carry-on baggage. The list was all liquids that people would not live without whenever they traveled:

SHAMPOO/CONDITIONER

DEODORANT

SOAP

BODY WASH

BABY FORMULA

TOOTHPASTE

MOUTHWASH

SOFT DRINKS BOTTLES

"That's quite a list," I remarked. "But, weren't the terrorists planning to only use soft drinks bottles like what happened on our flight that was nearly bombed over Boston?"

"Possible, they will do just about anything to achieve their goal," advised Mr. Barkin, putting the paper back in the desk. "While Dr. Director deals with Mr. Jones, I'm overseeing this next step in Global Justice's plan to improve airport security."

Both Ron and I were skeptical about this, but we decided to play along with Mr. Barkin overseeing the entire operation in question.

"I can't believe all the pleasures we have to get rid of, KP," cried Ron, disappointingly as we left Mr. Barkin's office and headed back to our room. "How else can I…?"

"Ron, everything that we are doing is for the good of the general public," I interrupted. "Yes, I know we have to pay an extra amount of money for checked luggage, but that's just the way it is. We aren't living in a fantasy world anymore because it ended when we defeated the Lowardians and graduated from High School. Besides, I could be receiving word from either Brown or Harvard at any time. It could be today, it could tomorrow, so we have to understand that."

Ron somewhat refused to believe those kind of words, however he had to see sense that it was true. We weren't living in a fantasy world anymore. The events on 9/11 began that trend that there truly was evil in the world and we would have to face it, one way or another.

Meanwhile, Dr. Director left Global Justice's headquarters and arrived in London the next morning, determined to get to the bottom of Mr. Jones' behavior towards me over my actions in the Raid at Bloomsbury. Mr. Jones was actually going over the list of items that Mr. Barkin proposed to me and Ron that should be banned when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called and the door opened to reveal Dr. Director on the other side. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. David Jones," she said, sternly. "We need to talk about your behavior towards Agent Possible."

And Mr. Jones looked up to see Dr. Director looking down crossly at him, a sign that he was about to be put in big trouble for his actions and behavior towards me, judging from the sudden shaking that he was displaying in front of Dr. Director…


	25. Confronting Mr Jones

Chapter 25

"Confronting Mr. Jones"

Mr. Jones scowled nervously when he saw Dr. Director standing in the doorway of his office. He could tell that she was upset with him about something and was aware that he would be receiving whatever discipline that Dr. Director was thinking about enforcing. Could it be that maybe there was something in the investigation he failed to take heed off, could it be that they got the wrong individuals and that the true criminals had escaped to Pakistan? He didn't know, but he was about to find out.

"David, we need to talk about something important," said Dr. Director, sternly as she stepped into his office. "From what I here, you bashed Agent Possible for not following protocol during the raid in Bloomsbury, am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Mr. Jones. "She was not following the protocols that you enforced when dealing with dangerous criminals. By discarding her SWAT armor, she was not following the proper procedures…"

But, Dr. Director intervened and raised her hand to silence Mr. Jones. True, she did enforce certain protocols, but they couldn't be used all the time. In her mind, she thought what I did was indeed justified. I needed to defend myself and Dr. Director knew both me and Ron more than this guy ever did.

"Don't lecture me about proper procedures, David," she interrupted, slamming her hand on his desk. "Agent Possible did everything in her power to try and fight Abdullah, which includes making the sacrifice of shedding her SWAT armor. By doing so, she most likely prevented a suicide bombing that would have killed everyone either way. Instead of thanking her, you berate her for not following protocol? What kind of a branch leader are you?"

"A branch leader who always follows the rules," snapped Mr. Jones, trying to defend himself. "Even if they have to be broken at times and believe me, these rules had to be broken if there was any chance of survival."

Mr. Jones could tell that he was going to be overruled by his boss. Still, he was very much the boss of this branch and he could object to what Dr. Director was trying to tell him. He had always been someone who followed everything by the book, but those times had resulted in something happening to the agents under his watch.

"But, there is something about you that is alarming," remarked Dr. Director. "You always believe that following everything by the book will get you the victories that we all desire. Do you know what your problem is, David? You are not willing to be flexible in your actions."

"I beg your pardon?" gasped Mr. Jones, rising to his feet. "I'll have you know that I have been mostly flexible in everything that I have done…."

"…Without throwing a temper tantrum about it," interjected Dr. Director. "Because that is what you did in front of Agent Possible. Don't you know what happened during the raid? She was nearly raped and killed by Abdullah Ali. Let that sink in for a minute!"

But, Mr. Jones was not going to listen. He didn't care about what would happen to me and all that matter was him keeping the world safe and he would be getting all the credit for it. In his mind, we were nothing more than workers for him and his leadership was nothing like Dr. Director's.

"Well, that was her own fault," replied Mr. Jones. "Agent Possible would not have been in the situation that she was in if she followed the rules that I and all the other branch leaders enforce."

"Perhaps you forget," retorted Dr. Director. "That Agent Possible's psychological scars from what happened during the raid will never go away. I'll have you know that she had been in a similar situation last year where she was stripped to her underwear and then almost killed. And it wasn't during a mission, David, it was during a date that she was having with Agent Stoppable."

Mr. Jones took in what Dr. Director had said and that he realized that these stories were nothing more than to just make him see what a bad leader he was. He still thought his actions were in the right and there was nothing wrong with that.

"Are you trying to use that story to get me to apologize, Betty?" sneered Mr. Jones, taking a sip of English tea. "Agent Possible is responsible for her own actions. Why should I apologize for that?"

"Because you are nothing more than a reckless individual who wants to just take his paycheck and piss off home," snapped Dr. Director. "The truth is, David, you run this branch like a dictatorship, discarding all of the rules and procedures that we have worked together to protect ourselves and the people we are sworn to protect. But, it is most likely that you are not willing to be a part of this team."

Mr. Jones' eyes widened at this, knowing that Dr. Director was going to take drastic measures to remove him from this position and that all of his faults and behaviors was exposed.

"Therefore," said Dr. Director, rising to her feet and ripping off Mr. Jones' Global Justice badge. "I hereby remove you of your positon as director of the Great Britain branch of Global Justice and you are to be reassigned to a new position effective immediately. Furthermore, you are to apologize to Agent Possible and Agent Stoppable for your behavior towards them. Do I make myself clear?"

The now ex-head of the British branch of Global Justice sneered in disgust as he walked out of his now former office while Dr. Director looked on with satisfaction, knowing that his removal from this position would at least give me a sense of closure.

Once Mr. Jones had gone, Dr. Director reached down to the telephone and placed it to her ear, dialing a random telephone number. It took a moment for the other side to be reached, but eventually another voice was heard on the other side.

"Agent Wonka," she said into the phone. "Can you come to the Crowne Plaza St. James in a few minutes? There is going to be some changes to our British branch of Global Justice and that they are going to involve you."

So, it seemed that Charlotte's brother was going to get his chance of a lifetime in the middle of a sweeping change of aviation security. At the same time, Ron and I were making our way down to London's Heathrow Airport where there was nothing but disorder, catastrophe, anarchy, chaos, moral disintegration. In short, it was a ghastly mess…


	26. Bouts of Frustration

Chapter 26

"Bouts of Frustration"

While Dr. Director spent her time firing Mr. Jones from running Britain's branch of Global Justice, Ron, Mr. Barkin and myself made our way over to the mess that was Heathrow Airport. We especially wanted to pay attention over at Terminals 3 and 4, where the targeted planes would depart from. Upon arrival, we could see lines and hoardes of angry, tired and frustrated airline passengers.

"I don't know what the bloody hell is going on!" cried an angry British passenger into a cell phone. "If this is just another ploy for money, so help me…"

"My grandmother is buried and I never got a chance to say goodbye," sobbed an Irish passenger. "I hope whoever at British Airways is responsible and rots in hell for it!"

The sounds of anger continued to be heard as we trotted into the Terminal 4 where several passengers did manage to check in safely. However, the lines were still long and the patience of those waiting to go through were either gone or almost gone. Just then, we saw Ulrich Weber, the head of British Airways security getting berated by an angry passenger from Germany. After he had left, Ulrich walked hastily towards us with the redness clearly being shown on his face.

"These people are relentless," he complained, exasperatedly. "Try to protect them from these idiots and this is the thanks I get?"

"Ulrich, it's going to take time," I replied, trying to calm him down. "What we are doing is for the protection of everyone who boards a commercial airliner."

"Yeah," he sneered, pulling out a cigarette. "Trying telling that to these people. They are all thinking its just another inconvenience that we want to impose on them. We've been trying to explain that they can't bring their liquids through the checkpoint."

Ron couldn't help but sympathize with the German-American head of security. After all, Ron had always brought his suitcase on as carry-on luggage and wished he wouldn't have helped in allowing all of this to happen.

"Hey, man," he said, placed a hand on Ulrich's shoulder. "I can understand how you feel. If I were in your shoes, trust me, I'd teach these passengers some manners."

"I don't think we should think that, Stoppable," advised Mr. Barkin, pulling Ron away from him. "We don't need any more violence to add salt to the wound. This is something people are going to have to get used to, whether we like it or not. They've gotten used to taking their shoes off thanks to an idiot and they'll get used to keeping their liquids in checked luggage thanks to a group of idiots."

Just then, we heard a loud scream and saw a Security agent being pushed back by an angry passenger. This caused me and Ron to jump into action to get the situation under control, pulling the security agent away from the passenger.

"All right, enough! Enough!" I cried as Ron pulled the passenger away and placed him against the wall.

"Take your hands off of me!" growled the passenger who was an American. "It's people like you who destroy our way of life!"

"Oh, really?" remarked Ron, taking out his Global Justice badge and showing it to the man's face. "Are we destroying it or protecting it? You'll have to decide on that!"

Releasing the angry passenger, Ron watched as two airport police officers came over to escort the man out of the terminal. Ron wasn't surprised that the man was acting this way, for he began to notice that there was a foul order coming from the man's mouth which was a tell-tale sign that he was intoxicated.

"That's what has been happening since yesterday morning," remarked Uli. "We've have to pull several passengers out of the security lines because of their behavior. I really don't want to do it, but I will if I have to. How do you think this will go on?"

"Probably for a while," I replied, smoothing out my sleeveless navy blue dress. "You guys will just have to be prepared for more outbursts like this as time goes on."

"As a matter of fact," said Mr. Barkin, handing Ulrich the list of banned liquids that he showed me and Ron. "These are the liquids that your people will need to be trained to ban from carry-on luggage. If passengers want to take them on their journeys, then they would have to be placed in checked luggage."

Ulrich read the list and then handed it back to Mr. Barkin, knowing what needed to be done. He was very used to increased security measures from his days at Pan Am in Frankfurt, but this was something completely different.

"I will do my best to train my people on these new procedures," he sighed, knowing what was at stake. "Be advised, my friends, that they won't learn these new procedures overnight. It will take time."

"No one is asking you to learn all of these overnight," I remarked, much to the agreement of Ron and Mr. Barkin. "What you do need to understand that the FAA and other aviation security industries are not going to wait for a long time for you to learn all of this."

"As a further recommendation, Ulrich," added Mr. Barkin. "I believe that we should send someone from the Federal Aviation Administration to help you install these procedures. I know someone that might be willing to help you out."

"Who are you talking about?" asked Ulrich, remembering of an FAA inspector that had come to Frankfurt before the Lockerbie bombing. "Who do you think could help me install these measures?"

"I'm talking about Tommy Dome," replied Mr. Barkin. "He is a very good friend of mine and someone who might remember you from 18 years ago. Tommy is retired from the FAA now, but I am sure he would be willing to start to help you and these passengers adjust to the new way of life that is sure to affect all of us soon."

What Mr. Barkin was saying to Ulrich was starting to make sense to him. The last time that Tommy and Ulrich crossed paths, Tommy had noticed several notable security infringements to the point that Ulrich's ass was nearly thrown in the shredder because each fine was $10,000 each. Fortunately, Tommy didn't enforce the fines because he wanted to support Ulrich's impending goal of increasing airport security for Pan Am, a goal that was never reached.

Nevertheless, everyone was being affected and before we could take in anything else, the Kimmunicator rang and I placed it to my ear.

"What's the Sitch?" I asked.

"Agent Possible," replied Dr. Director. "I need you and Agent Stoppable to return to the Crowne Plaza St. James immediately. There is going to be some changes to our British branch that you might need to know about."

"We'll be there right away," I said and hung up before turning over to Ron and Mr. Barkin. "That was Dr. Director on the other line. She wants us back right away."

So, without saying another word, we immediately made our way back to the Crowne Plaza St. James where Dr. Director would reveal whatever changes she was enforcing…


	27. New Sheriff in Town

Chapter 27

"New Sherriff in Town"

After receiving Dr. Director's message, Ron, Mr. Barkin and I quickly left the anger and chaos of Heathrow's terminal 4 and returned to the Crowne Plaza St. James. I could tell that there was something important that Dr. Director wanted to share with us and I was actually looking forward to it greatly. It seemed that she had finally decided to make a change concerning who should be the leader of our British branch of Global Justice. I wasn't surprised since this was perhaps Dr. Director's way of standing up for me after all I had done for this organization.

"What's going on, Dr. Director?" I asked as we walked back into the hotel lobby. "What happened to Mr. Jones?"

"He is being reassigned," she replied, firmly. "There is absolutely no excuse for what he said to you, Agent Possible. Especially after all you have done for us and the organization in general. You did what needed to be done."

"Well, thanks for your understanding in that regard, ma'am," I said, happily as we walked to Mr. Jones' former office. "What he said to me was unacceptable in my point of view."

Stepping into the office with Mr. Barkin waiting outside, we saw a young man sitting at Mr. Jones' desk wearing an eyepatch over his right eye and had curly brown hair along with a gold bow tie and purple jacket. He bore a striking resemblance to Willy Wonka, the famous candy man, although I wasn't too surprised that this was none other than Charlotte's older brother and fellow agent, Willy Wonka III.

"I would like to introduce you to the new director of our British branch of Global Justice," announced Dr. Director. "William Wonka III."

William got up from his new desk and trotted over towards us, shaking my hand as well as Ron's. Ron was also very pleased with the switch as well, since he felt that Mr. Jones' behavior was absolutely unacceptable towards me.

"I have heard many things about you, Agent Possible," he said in his light British voice. "And I have heard many things about you, Agent Stoppable. You're quite the sidekick."

"Well, I'm glad someone had noticed the essential Ronness," remarked Ron, flexing his muscles much to my approval as well as Rufus' approval. "Guess maybe now we can start working together on, I suppose."

As much as I liked Ron to say that we liked to work with Agent Wonka, he knew and I knew that I was going to make the decision to retire. But, during this meeting, a thought was going through my mind that after everything that had happened during the raid, perhaps maybe retiring now is not an option.

"Actually, Ron," I said, perking up a little bit of courage. "There is something that I would like to say in regards to my future with Global Justice."

Agent Wonka sat back down in his chair and looked up at me as everyone else awaited to hear what I had to say in regards to my decision to retire now. I also knew that I would soon be enrolling at one of the two major universities in the United States. Yes, college life would be taking up most of my time and that was the main reason why I wanted to retire in the first place.

"What is it you want to say, Agent Possible?" asked Dr. Director. "Is it concerning your impending retirement from this organization?"

"It actually is, Dr. Director," I replied, taking a deep breath and starting to feel the sweat trickling down my face and also on my legs, as the sweat was starting to stick on my stocking clad legs. "After everything that had happened to me, I have decided to postpone my retirement on a fulltime basis."

Ron's eyes widened at hearing this, for he was probably thinking that I could never step down from doing what I love. All he thought was that we could focus on college life rather than saving the world as we had agreed upon.

"Why do you want to say that, KP?" he cried, with Rufus agreeing with him. "Are you aware that your college life is going to dominate you? We won't have time to do the missions that we need to do."

"I am aware of that, Ron," I explained, much to his chagrin. "But, don't you see that this raid wasn't quite the mission I wanted to close out my time here? I want something to happen, something that would put everything I ever worked for to the ultimate test of life and death."

"I commend you for making that gutsy decision, Agent Possible," remarked Dr. Director, smiling warmly at me. "Although we respect the fact that it is your own decision. Our organization is forever grateful to your services and it always will be grateful."

So, the meeting came to an end as quickly as it began and I left Agent Wonka's office, still reflecting the decision to not retire now. Was it the right decision and if it was, will I come to regret it later? I had made the decision to retire so that I could focus on attending either Harvard or Brown Universities, but it appears that one of them would have to share with my extended duties.

Upon returning to the hotel room, I heard the phone ring and ran over to pick it up, thinking that it would be Mr. Jones calling to apologize for his behavior towards me.

"Hello?" I answered into the phone.

"Miss Possible, this is Eryn Girardi of Brown University calling," replied the woman on the other line. "We here at Brown University have decided to accept you as a student for the 2006-2007 academic year. Congratulations!"

All of my fears and thoughts of retirement went out of the window at that moment as I finally had gotten accepted to one of the two schools that I wanted. Tears of happiness were beginning to form at the corners of my eyes, knowing that I had succeeded in what I have been trying to do since last year.

"Kim, what is it?" cried Ron. "Is something wrong?"

I was silent for a minute, trying to pull myself together in front of Ron. I wanted to be happy, not sad. But, my tears were making that difficult as I tried to produce a small smile.

"Ron, I've got some got news," I cried, happily. "I've been accepted to Brown University!"

"Kim, that's great news!" replied Ron as we came into an embrace. "Brown University, here we come!"

So, everything seemed to be coming together for the both of us. I had decided to stay on for the time being and I had been accepted into a major university.

But, would deciding to stay on at Global Justice be the right choice? That was a question that would be answered in time as Ron and I prepared to get ready to head back home to the United States, while also preparing to face the new way of life that all airline passengers would have to face as a result of all we had done over the past month…


	28. Going Home

Chapter 28

"Going Home"

So the day finally came for Ron and me to head back to the United States after a successful, yet tense mission to stop a terrorist plot of epic proportions. It was even greater by the fact that I had been accepted to Brown University, a school that was closer to home and that it was in Providence, Rhode Island, the most college borne city in the United States. Still, as we walked into Terminal 4, we had one more new way of life that we had to face and it was a new way of life that we had help to create.

"Well, guess this is it," gulped Ron as we walked up to the British Airways ticket counter to check our bags in. "Time to say goodbye to carrying liquid bottles through the machines."

"That's probably our greatest accomplishment to date, Ron," I remarked. "Do you realize that if we had not intervened, all these people would be dead in the sea? Sometimes, the sacrifices we make are for the benefit of society, although they aren't easy sacrifices."

Placing our bags on the scales, they were weighed, tagged and soon, they were checked through all the way to back to Boston. Just before we got into the security lines however, a small voice was heard calling us in the distance.

"Agent Possible! Agent Stoppable! Wait!" cried the voice and we turned to see Charlotte Wonka running towards us. "I just wanted to thank you for all you have done for our country."

"It's our pleasure," I said, warmly. "And congratulations to your brother for his promotion. I trust that he will do a good job, if I do say so myself. It's people like us that keep the public safe from danger."

Looking out towards the security lines, we could see that the lines were moving much smoother than a few days earlier, when it was nothing but thoroughbred chaos at every direction due to the sudden sweep of changes.

"Indeed," I said. "Well, I've got a date with Brown University to get ready for, Charlotte. Guess this is it, then."

"I'm sure that God knows when we will meet again, Agents Possible and Stoppable," replied Charlotte as she shook our hands. "Good luck and have a safe journey home."

After saying our goodbyes to Charlotte, we joined the security lines and looked at the new rules of liquid bans that would change the way we would travel forever. It took us nearly 20 minutes to get through security, but the extra time was worth it. Most passengers agreed with both of us and soon, we were waiting to board British Airways Flight 213 to Boston, the flight that catapulted us into our greatest mission to date.

"Possible! Stoppable!" barked a voice and we turned to see Mr. Barkin racing towards us. "Sorry that I am late, but Dr. Director suggested that I escort you back to the United States. Hey, we don't want a repeat, don't we?"

"I wouldn't want one either," chuckled Ron.

Upon arriving at the gate, Mr. Barkin sat down next to us and took out a bottle of water out of his coat pocket, drinking it up quickly. Both Ron and I gave him a strange look over how he got a bottle through security if they were banned.

"Don't worry, Possible," he advised. "I picked it up at a shop that was after the security checkpoint."

"That's a relief," I sighed, relieved that it was a false alarm. "But, I can't help but wonder if this really the end of preventing attacks like this or not? I mean, do you think that aviation is always going to be a target?"

"Well, it is a terrorists' favorite target," suggested Mr. Barkin. "They loved to bomb Pan Am 103, they loved to fly planes to buildings on 9/11 and I highly doubt that they would have loved to bring down 18 planes in two days. We can't let our guard down despite this victory that we have obtained."

Mr. Barkin was right, we've only won the battle, but we haven't won the war. The war on terror was going to be won only if we wiped out terrorism forever. That is a goal that may never be reached, but we will keep trying.

Soon, we boarded Flight 213 and upon taking off after 11:30am, we could only look to the future that was ahead of us: my first year at Brown University and trying to finish my career at Global Justice on a high note.

Of course, Ron had some unfinished business to take care of at the bathroom, double checking on the doors to see if it was occupied. To his surprise as well, he saw the same father and daughter from the flight out that he had angered for not seeing the sign.

"Hmm, I guess you learned your lesson this time," he said as he led his daughter back to the seat.

"Did we see that guy before, daddy?" asked his daughter as Ron listened. "He looks like someone we saw before."

"Evelyn," said the father. "I'll tell you more when you are older." 

Ron chuckled as he walked into the bathroom to do his business before returning to our seats. It was nice to see Ron not have a black eye on his face and furthermore, this helped us gain more closure to perhaps our greatest adventure yet.

"Told you it wasn't the end of the world," I chuckled as Ron and I came together into a passionate kiss as we settled in for the long flight back to Boston. "I love you, Ron."

"I love you too, Kim," he replied, warmly.

In the years since, I enrolled in the Global Studies program at Brown University, while Ron would later enroll at Community College of Rhode Island also majoring in Global Studies.

Mr. Barkin returned to teaching at Middleton High and was having to tolerate and control the antics of Jim and Tim.

William Wonka III later received his doctorate from Oxford University and made a pledge to strengthen the United Kingdom's borders with those who seek to cause chaos. Charlotte later became assistant head of Security, working alongside Ulrich Weber. Since 2006, thanks to both Wonka siblings' efforts towards Global Justice, no major terror attack has occurred on British soil of any kind.

After being removed from his position, David Jones was demoted to desk duty at the Global Justice headquarters in London. As of this story, he still believes that I broke the rules in the Bloomsbury raid.

Meanwhile, Abdullah Ali, Tanvir Hussan and Assad Sanwar were found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder and were sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of parole. A second trial found other members Oliver Savant, Arafat Khan and Waheed Zaman guilty of conspiracy to commit murder and were also sentenced to life imprisonment, but would be eligible for parole after serving 20 years.

However, it is important to remember that we remained with Global Justice, only taking part in missions that were considered a general threat to the public such as terrorism. The days of fighting Drakken, Shego, Monkey Fist and everyone were all but over. These were the new enemies now and whoever knew what they were planning next.


End file.
